


Call Boy Blue

by Kitty (KutieKitty16)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gang, Heith - Freeform, M/M, Multi, klance, mafia, shance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-06-11 15:52:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 63
Words: 67,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15318927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KutieKitty16/pseuds/Kitty
Summary: When Keith accidentally aides a gang in the murder of a man he is immediately recruited. The leader regards him as a great fighter while a certain branded call boy takes a different interest in him.Rated Mature for sexual content, sexual abuse, potentially triggering depictions of mental disorders including PTSD; bulimia, child abuse, explicit homophobia, transphobiaNoteThis story involves a romance between Shiro and Lance as well as a separate relationship between Keith and Lance.This story is written by the perspectives of many characters. Even though it's written in third person it's still only one character's view.This book may be a gang!AU but it's a story about love. It touches on topics such as adult-minor relationships, rape, sexual assault, marriage, sex, morality. These things are different for victims of abuse. Situations that may be clear to you, may be messy for a survivor. The lasting impacts of PTSD are a major topic and may not be suitable for those of you that suffer with it.TO SUMMARIZECall Boy Blue is a complex story about topics that may not be easy to understand. If you are looking for an easy read, this is not the story for you.





	1. The Slums

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a fanfic I read a long time ago. Forgive me for not remembering what it was called. It was a Voltron gang!au that had a lot of disturbing elements to it like: murder/torture, drug abuse, explicit sexual content, and just other fucked up scenes. There was a scene I remember where Lance and Keith were having sex and Pidge came into the room and she was like high off coke or something and was just completely doped out. There was another where Lance and Keith stole Shiro?'s car and they drove around and ended up making out on the roof of it. If anyone knows where I can find this fic, PLEASE let me know. I would love to name it here.

Keith flicked the ashes off his cigarette and scoped out the people walking next to him on the sidewalk. The brutal sun baked his skin underneath his leather jacket and black jeans. Even though he was sweating buckets, Keith wouldn't dare try on anything else. Being stubborn was his favorite activity.

The neighborhood he lived in was not pretty. The slums, they called them. All the buildings looked rundown and abused. Everyone either dressed like they were begging for cars to offer up cash or wanted to beat up anyone and everyone. Keith swayed his shoulders as he walked. It was a habit that was cultivated by his father. He gripped the grocery bag tighter and slipped around a brick wall and up a grimy stairwell. His keys jingled as he unlocked a rotting door and stepped inside his house.

"Keith?!" His father's voice greeted him with a flaming intensity. "That you?!"

"Yeah!" Keith tossed the bag of groceries on the counter and starting putting them away. It wasn't much, but they made it by.

"Bring me beer!"

Keith rolled his eyes and retrieved a bottle from the fridge. He used a drawer handle to pop the top off and brought it to his father in the grimy living room. His father was leaning over the TV to inspect the back.

Keith set the beer on the stained coffee table. "Did it break again?"

His father turned around and nodded with a grunt. "Yeah. Stupid piece of shit."

"Want me to help?" Keith looked around at the mess of a home he lived in. As much as he wanted to try and clean, he never had any motivation for it.

"Nah, I got it." He set down the screwdriver he was holding and held his arms out as he walked over the Keith. "Welcome home, son."

Keith let him hug him, but didn't reciprocate one of his own. When he pulled away, Keith gave him a nod. "I'll just finish putting the groceries away, then."

"You do that." His father patted his shoulder and snatched the bottle from the coffee table. "By the way, I want you to finish that bike before dinner."

"What?" Keith gave him a confused look. "That's impossible. It's gonna take weeks."

His voice hardened, "You're almost an adult, Keith. You need something to drive, so  _go fix the bike._ "

Keith shook his head, "But I can't do that before dinner."

His father took a swig of his beer and returned it to the table. He turned back to the TV, "Then you don't  _get_ dinner." He waved him off, "Now go. I've gotta focus."

Keith glared at the back of his head for a moment, then returned to the kitchen to finish putting everything away. He spent hours down in the garage trying to fix the bike he had found in a junkyard. It wasn't too beat up, so he decided it would be a good idea to repair it for himself. When the clock reached midnight and his stomach groaned, he returned to his house and went up to his room.

After he took a shower, he opened his bedroom window and lit a cigarette. Smoking curbed his appetite long enough to make it until morning, so it was a common occurrence for him. After finishing, he ground the end into the ashtray on his windowsill and went to bed in his grimy mattress on the floor.

"Good morning, Mom." Keith stretched up with a yawn as he walked into the kitchen. The smell of scorched butter and salt stroked his nose and coated his mouth. He gave her a kiss on the cheek as he leaned over her shoulder. "What are you making?"

"Pancakes and—!" She smacked his hand as he snatched a piece of bacon. "—bacon."

Keith laughed as he jumped back and ate the bacon strip. Wiping his hands with a paper towel, he opened the fridge and grabbed the milk carton. "Where's Dad?" He drank the milk without grabbing a glass.

"Right here," his father yanked the carton from his hand and returned the cap to it. "Did you finish that bike?"

Keith groaned and crossed his arms, "No, not yet."

"Best get to work on it today," he gave Keith's mother a kiss and plopped two pancakes and three strips of bacon on a plate. He handed it to Keith, "How about calling that boy uh...Tony?"

Keith tensed up and clamped his fists together, "No, I got it myself."

Keith's mother gave his father a plate of food, "Are you sure? You really like that boy."

"I'm sure," Keith snapped. He retrieved the syrup from the pantry and drenched his plate in it. "I don't need Tony."

As he shoveled the food down, his mother perked up. "Oh! Can you get some cigarettes on your way back? I have to head to work now."

"Yeah, sure." Keith let her kiss his cheek as she ran back to her room to change.

Keith father patted his shoulder as he headed to the living room. "You get that bike working, you hear?"

Keith nodded and gulped down a mouthful of syrup-sopped pancake. "Yes, sir." He tossed his plate into the sink and grabbed his keys. "I'm off, guys!"

Keith skipped down the stairs and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it as he walked down the sidewalk. Again, the heat was killer. He adjusted his leather jacket and muddled through. The garage was about a ten minute walk, so he pulled out his phone and put his headphones in.

When he reached the garage, he banged on the open door and hopped in. "Hey Mikey!"

Mikey was a short, balding man with a beer belly and dirty nails. His spot was a makeshift desk in the garage, equipped with its own desk chair. He put out his cigarette when he saw him enter. "Hey Keith! What's up, man?"

Keith slipped around him and shuffled through the toolbox, "Same as yesterday."

"Still that bike?"

"Yup." Keith flipped a wrench in the air and walked over to a mound of blanket. He ripped it off to uncover his bike and kneeled down to look over his previous work.

"Oh, by the way—"

"Keith!" A suave, cheery voice called out to him.

His chest was shot with irritation and fear. He dropped the wrench and stood up, puffing his chest and clenching his fists. "Hello Tony."

Tony was a taller man with dusty chocolate skin and a pimp walk. He had his hands stuffed in his jean pockets and a wife beater showing off his muscular arms. "You look well. You ya doin'?"

Keith held back his anxiety and moved to the other side of his bike. "I'm good, but I've gotta work on this."

"Right." Tony took a walk around the area to admire the view. When he finished the circle, he continued off from where he came from. "I'll see you around, Kogane."

Keith mocked him as he picked at his bike, "I'll see you around, Kogane." He scoffed, "What a fuckin' asshole."

Mikey sighed, "Sorry, thought you knew he was here."

"Obviously I didn't." The wrench clattered again as he let go of it and rubbed his face. "Whatever. I'm just gonna work."

"Sure," Mikey rolled his eyes and swiveled his chair back to his desk.


	2. The Boy In Tiffany

Keith kicked his feet up on top of the chair in front of him as he sat in the movie theater. It wasn't his usual place, but it was relaxing not to worry about anybody he knew coming in. In the rich part of the city, Keith stood out like a sore thumb, but he didn't mind the attention. It was kind of fun watching old Christian folks get snappy about the way he looked.

The movie was some boring romance. Some girl loved one rich guy, but also loved some bad boy. "Pathetic," Keith spat.

A puddle of whispering caught his ears. Since the movie wasn't interesting, he listened in on their little conversation. Two teenage girls sat in the row below him a few seats over. One was blonde with a Paris-themed Pandora bracelet. The other was a frizzy brunette with her hair pulled up in a messy bun.

The blonde gasped, "But was it over there?"

"Yeah," the brunette dramatically nodded, "I heard they killed him and then beat his friend within an inch of his life."

"No way!" She placed a hand over her mouth. "They're batshit crazy."

"Don't cross Voltron, that's the first thing you should learn if you're gonna live here."

Keith rolled his eyes. This town always had the word  _Voltron_ stuffed in their mouths. Voltron did this and Voltron did that. Keith didn't believe a word of it. Pure fairytale. What kind of gang would have that much power over the city? Keith knew gangs, and that wasn't possible.

The streets only got even more pumped up at night. Nightlife was a big deal there. Keith used to live for it, but that changed about a year ago.  _Maybe if I hadn't been so stu—_

"Hey!" An irritated, whiny voice snapped at him.

Keith had collided into him, hitting their shoulders together as they walked by. He caught little glimpses of his figure: beautiful glittering blue hips and shimmering diamonds; winged eyes glaring at him; pink glossy lips giving him annoyed words. Keith was going to reply with an angry "Watch where you're going," but he stopped when he saw him. He had never seen someone like that around that city.

The guy hung on the arm of a much larger man with shaved white hair who noticed their interaction.

Keith could only breath out a gentle, "Sorry."

The boy scoffed and turned back around as he kept walking, petting and cuddling up to the bigger man's arm with peppy giggles.

Keith rolled his eyes and continued on. He pulled out his phone and checked all of his notifications. The second he slipped it back into his pocket, an arm wrapped around his shoulders and tugged on his neck.

"Keith, babe, how are you?" Tony hung on him, controlling his movement with his height. "I was thinking you and I should head back to my place."

Keith tried to push him away, but he was a lot stronger—emotionally and physically. "I really have to get back home. My parents are waiting."

Tony leaned into his ear. His breath nipped his skin, bringing a chill of disgust across his body. "I wasn't asking."

Keith took a look back over his shoulder to see the boy from before. The man he was with cradled his back as they made out against the side of a limo parked on the street. "Um," Keith turned back to Tony and shoved his arm off. "Not tonight."

Tony replaced his arm and directed Keith to his car parked a few feet away. He opened the door and led him in. "Come on. Don't be an ass."

Keith finally gave in and followed his instructions.  _Whatever. We'll hang out and I'll go home tomorrow._


	3. Cashier's Demise

Keith gave the passive gas station cashier a greeting nod and went back into the shelves. He wandered a while to waste time, letting his eyes drift over the array of labels and price tags. Not having dinner or breakfast was taking a toll on his body. If he couldn't sneak any food out of the kitchen on his way out, he went to the gas station and found something with caloric value. He had just wanted to leave Tony's house as soon as possible.

He was standing in front of a lower shelf when the fidgety cashier gained his attention. Keith lifted his eyes and watched him as he fiddled with his hands and stared out the glass windows with wide eyes. A deer in the headlights of a semi. The booming sound of bass and a sports car engine caught his eye as a black car with tinted windows screeched to a halt right outside the door.

 _Something's wrong._ In a neighborhood like this, you quickly learned how to sense an upcoming dangerous situation. That was exactly what gnawed at Keith's stomach. He knelt down a little and kept his body low in case he needed to hide.

Several people hopped out of the car: a bigger man in a dark hoodie and golden skin, a shorter girl with chopped hair and a stained baseball bat, and a very muscular man sporting a scar across the bridge of his nose. The scarred man was dressed in black and had a large gun in his left hand. His right arm was wrapped around the waist of a very colorful person. They wore thin pink booty shorts with a bright yellow crop top, one hot pink shoe and one lime green, way too many pastel watches up their arms, and a different color knee and elbow pads on every joint. Their hands held bright pastel pistols with a matching balisong strapped to their thigh.

Keith hid behind the shelf and took out the knife he always carried. Whoever they were, they weren't interested in a friendly conversation. The muscular man stood in front of the cashier while the colorful one hopped up and sat on the counter. Keith couldn't hear what they were saying, but it didn't seem like good news.

Keith was planning on waiting until they left before he exited the gas station. It was a solid plan until the cashier bolted and snatched an axe from behind the counter. He ran over to where Keith was as the group flanked his other side to chase the guy. After only a few seconds, Keith was knelt down between an axe-wielding crazy man and a gang of eccentric gun enthusiasts.

There was a long second where everything was silent. All Keith could hear was the pounding of his heart and the gunshots that followed. Deciding not to run into the line of fire, he slid over toward the group and jumped back behind the shelf. Besides a few glances, they ignored him and continued their job. He avoided staring up the colorful one's shorts that were basically shoved in his face and planned his next move. Since he wasn't a threat to them, Keith decided to bolt and get the fuck out of there.

After only two steps, a hand grabbed his ankle and brought him to the ground.  _You've got to be fucking kidding me._

He rolled over to remove their grip and met the panicked eyes of the cashier. He clawed up at him, "Come back here!" Suddenly a bullet tore through the guy's forearm, stopping his relentless attempts at grabbing Keith's shoes.

Keith snatched his knife from the ground and got up to run again only to be pulled back by an arm around his neck. The cashier held the axe up behind him and swayed back and forth while holding Keith in a headlock. He rolled his eyes.  _This motherfucker._ Keith tugged on his arm and turned out of the headlock, throwing the man to the ground.

"Get back!" The muscular guy commanded him with a deep and robust voice, gun aimed down.

Keith jumped back and cleared the area. One quick shot through the skull rendered the cashier motionless. The man let out a sigh and handed his gun back to the bigger guy. He wiped his forehead as the colorful one wrapped their hands around his neck with a chirpy giggle. The voice that sounded from them was not what Keith expected; it was low and smooth. A little familiar. "Yeah, White!" That was a male.

The muscular guy, presumably White, turned back to the small girl. "Gigabyte, call King and tell him the job's done."

She gave him a two-finger salute and popped her gum. "Roger that."

"So kid," White wrapped an arm around the colorful guy's waist and lifted him up, bringing him onto his toes, "Where'd you learn that?"

Keith was still in shock from the sight of a man being shot right in front of him. It wasn't the first time, but that didn't make it any bearable. He realized White was talking to him and he tapped his chest. "Me?" He pointed at the bleeding cashier. "That?"

White nodded, "Yeah. Where'd you learn to fight?" His jawline was chiseled out from his face, eyes sunken back behind permanently furrowed brows. "It's smart. Coordinated. Natural."

Keith kept his distance from them and turned his body slightly away. "I, uh, I live here."

White didn't look convinced. He eyed Keith's body and stance with a curious frown. The boy on his hip whined and tugged on his neck, "White! Come on! Let's get out of here! I don't wanna get anything on my clothes!" When he was stretched up that much, Keith could see faint marks of what had to be bruises or hickeys on his hipbones and ribs. There were also dog tags underneath, jingling every time he moved.

"Charming, shut up." The bigger man with golden skin leaned against a wall behind them.

He shot a glare back at him and sneered. "You shut your mouth."

"Look, kid." White gained Keith's attention again. "I don't know who you are and I don't care. Don't tell me your name, I'm calling you Anger Management now."

Keith was taken aback. He crossed his arms, "Wait, what th—"

"We're Voltron. You know who we are, yes?" White kept his hand on Charming's hip.

The name stunned him for a moment. Voltron?  _The_ Voltron? "Uh," he blinked in confusion, "I mean, yeah, but I thought they didn't exist."

"Well obviously we do, Grumpy Pants!" Charming gave him a snappy comment, then turned back. "White!"

"Anger," White ignored his whining, "Would you like to join Voltron?"

Keith let his mind process the words. "Um,  _join_ Voltron?"

"Yes," he looked back to the door, "we have to go soon. Tell me your answer."

"Wait! Wait!" Keith waved his hands in protest. "This is insane. I know nothing about you guys. You could be taking me somewhere to kill me."

"No," White's face stayed neutral. It was as if his scar never stretched. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already."

"Lady," Gigabyte flipped her bat and gave White a wary tone, "We gotta go. King wants us back."

"Go get in the car," White responded. "Take Charming with you."

Charming scoffed and pouted for a moment. Keith couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity within his face. With a cheeky look over at Keith, he used a hand to bring White's lips to his. Keith sighed in annoyance and disgust as they sucked on each other's tongues in the messiest kiss he'd ever seen. Charming pulled away and shot Keith a glare before walking out with everyone else, swaying his hips way more than he needed to.

White locked eyes with Keith, "I won't force you, but it would be a shame to see you go down for this." He motioned to the dead cashier next to him.

The gears in Keith's brain finally started working as he pieced together what he was hearing. "You can't be serious."

White shrugged and chugged toward the door. "Get in the car or go to jail. Your call."

Keith couldn't believe what just happened. In less than ten minutes he'd killed a guy, met a gang that he didn't know was real, and is now being given the option of joining or getting his tongue cut out. Of course they wouldn't let him go. It was naive of him to think that he wouldn't get caught up in this mess. Keith angrily groaned and forced his legs to work as he followed White out to the car.


	4. The Warehouse

Keith leaned his head on his elbow and stared out the window as they rode together. He was still processing how the hell he ended up in this situation.  _I am in a car,_ he looked over at the small girl type away on a computer next to him,  _with a gang that's supposedly the most dangerous in the city,_ yelps of giggles caught his ears as the colorful boy made out with White in the passenger seat,  _and they are forcing me to join them._

_Kill me now. No, wait—they might actually do that._

Charming strut through the dated wooden doors with his arms behind his head and White by his side. Gigabyte shot Keith a playful look under her round glasses, "Welcome to the warehouse."

The building wasn't exactly a warehouse, but he didn't care enough to ask about it. It was actually a renovated two-story victorian-style orphanage. The front doors opened to a small entryway that led to a bigger main room. Couches and tables sat on each side while the middle was left clear for a dance floor currently occupied by a group of kids. Others sat and watched or cheered on while music filled the area. They varied in age from around four to seventeen.

Charming took it upon himself to jump in and join their dancing with his own carnal style. They seemed really fond of him, which was strange because they were a supposedly "dangerous" gang. He was still wondering what the fuck they were even doing there. Keith looked over at the bigger man with darker skin, "What's your name? I've only heard theirs."

He gave him a bright smile, "They call me Cinnamon Roll."

"Right," Keith averted his annoyed gaze and sighed. He hated the nicknames with a passion.

"Anger!" White motioned for him to follow. "Let's go see King."

Keith hated his own more than the others.

The way Voltron's headquarters were set up was an orphanage in the front and an extension behind it for the gang. He figured it was for hiding more than practicality. Keith was led back to a claustrophobic room with a poker table in the middle. A man with bright orange hair and a pipe in his hand played cards with a woman in a glittery dress and white hair. They glanced up when they came in.

White motioned to the man, then Keith. "King, this is Anger Management." He looked down at him, "The new recruit I talked to you about."

The woman stood up and inspected Keith up and down. She held her hand out, "My name's Allure."

Keith shook it, "Ke—uh—Anger."

She looked over at White, "Where did he come from?"

White shook his head and cut his throat with his hand.

"Oh," Allure gave him curious eyes, "Really?"

King let out a large puff of smoke, "What's he looking like, Allure?"

"Oh!" She pinched and tugged at his clothes. After a few moments of humming in thought, she looked back at King, "He's good. I like him."

King returned to his cards, blowing out another puff of smoke. "If Allure says he's good, then he's in. Have Princess Charming show him around."

White shifted his weight and clenched his hands together, "Sir, I can do that. Charming doesn't need to be bo—"

King let out an annoyed groan and cut him off. "He can handle it. I need to speak with you, send him off."

White grabbed Keith's shoulders and pushed him out of the room. "Go find Charming and tell him to fill you in."

"But whe—" The door shut in his face. Keith groaned and took in his surroundings.  _The fuck is Charming?_ He followed the sound of the speakers and found his way back. Gigabyte, Cinnamon Roll, and the one he assumed was Princess Charming were playing and dancing with the children. Keith walked up to Princess and tapped his shoulder, "King said to find you so you can show me around."

Princess clicked his teeth in annoyance and bid farewell to the group with his signature cheeky smile. "Follow me," he snatched a keychain from a drawer and turned down a hallway behind the stairs. As he walked, Princess stopped swaying his hips and dropped his bright smile. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "My name's Princess Charming. You met the other two and the headmasters. The big guy with a scar is Lady in White."

Keith was surprised by his sudden shift in behavior. It was like he was looking at a completely different person. "You're not the same when you're with them, are you?"

Princess didn't answer him, barely acknowledging the question. "Whatever."

Keith crossed his arms and smirked, "So you and White, huh?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." He clenched his fists and furrowed his brows.

Keith could see Princess's bones fight against his skin. He had a very prominent thigh gap and collarbones. "You're really thin, too."

Princess snapped and used his forearm to shove Keith against the wall. He bared his teeth as he yelled at him. "Stop trying to pick me apart like some Shakespeare novel! I am your superior! And if you don't wanna get your fucking newbie ass beat, then don't cross me or White will do whatever he wants with you!" His eyes held a fire of anger with a glint of pity. After a second of tense silence, he released his hold. "Just keep your mouth shut and do what people tell you. No one asked to let you be here." He pointed to the door a few feet away, "Here's your room."

Keith adjusted his leather jacket and watched as Princess opened the door with the keychain he had. When it was open, he slapped the keys in Keith's hand. "There you go. Here's where you'll stay." He picked at his clothes, "The headmasters stay in the house next door; Gigabyte is four rooms down; Cinnamon is across from her; White and I are above you."

"Wait," Keith furrowed his brows in confusion, "What about my family? I can't just disappear."

Princes backed down the hall and shrugged. "You have a phone, don't you? Tell them you're not coming." He turned to return to the main room. "We have eyes everywhere, so don't even think of leaving! I don't wanna have to chase down your emo ass."

Keith opened his mouth to protest, but decided it wasn't worth it. He turned to look in the dusty room.  _Of fucking course I've got myself in this mess._

He stepped inside and sent a quick text to his mother:

_Won't be home for a few days. Staying with a friend. See you soon._


	5. Cinnamon Charming

Keith bolted awake to the sound of crashing. The blankets flapped as he threw them off and went to find the source. As he rounded the corner to the main room, a clutter of voices slowly grew. Princess came skipping down the stairs in a fuss barefoot and wearing a white shirt ten sizes too big for him, "Cinnamon! What the fuck?!" He burst through a pair of doors to the kitchen.

Keith followed after, walking in to see Cinnamon knelt down to a younger kid's level. Pieces of a broken plate sat next to them while the kid's hand was in Cinnamon's. He gave Princess an annoyed glare, "Jamie accidentally dropped a plate. It's not a big deal. Just go back to bed."

Princess crossed his arms, "You can't tell me what to do." He knelt down to the kid and softened his voice, "Hey Jamie. You okay?"

Jamie sniffled and nodded, "Yeah. I'm sorry!"

"It's fine, I'm just glad you're alright." He rubbed Jamie's back and stood up, returning to his snappy tone. "Cinnamon, take care of this. White hates rude awakenings."

"Just go back to bed. I said I was taking care of it." He seemed irked, but tried to keep it hidden as much as he could.

"Hm," Princess turned and walked through the door, hitting Keith's shoulder on the way out.

_"Hey!" An irritated, whiny voice snapped at him._

_Keith had collided into him, hitting their shoulders together as they walked by. He caught little glimpses of his figure: beautiful glittering blue hips and shimmering diamonds; winged eyes glaring at him; pink glossy lips giving him annoyed words. Keith was going to reply with an angry "Watch where you're going," but he stopped when he saw him. He had never seen someone like that around that city._

Keith stared at the doors for a little while after he left. Cinnamon's voice sounded from beside him, "He hasn't always been like that."

Keith met his eyes as he patched up Jamie's hand. "Oh," he retrieved the broom resting against the counter, "let me help." He started picking up the broken shards. "So," he hesitated a little, "Princess is a little pushy, huh?"

"Like I said," Cinnamon finished Jamie's hand and sent him off, "He hasn't always been that way."

"Well," Keith threw away the pieces of the plate, "Why is he now?"

Cinnamon seemed to fall back in thought, "We were best friends when he came. I had been here longer, so I showed him how things went."

"Came here?" Keith motioned to the building. "To the orphanage?"

Cinnamon nodded, "I came here when I was ten. My parents were  _not_ good to me, so White saved me and brought me here."

"What about Princess? Was he an orphan, too?"

"Well," Cinnamon turned around to start cooking breakfast, "Princess was a special case. It would be disrespectful for me to tell his story for him, but White and I brought him here when he was fifteen."

Keith leaned against the counter, "So you're a chef?"

Cinnamon chuckled and nodded, "Yeah, I cook for the little ones. I was taught by King when I first came here."

"How old are you now?"

"I'm seventeen." He whipped an egg mixture. "What about you?"

"Eighteen." Keith looked at the door. "What about everyone else?"

"That's a tricky question." Cinnamon started the stove and set a pan atop the flame. "Princess and I are both seventeen. Gigabyte is fifteen. I don't know the other's, though."

"But wait," Keith was hit with a sudden realization. He flashed back to Princess making out with White in the gas station and car. "Lady's gotta be twenty-something right? I thought he and Princess were a thing."

"They are." Cinnamon shrugged an mumbled a "Kind of."

Keith furrowed his brows, "But that's not right! He's a—"

Cinnamon cut him off by holding up a spatula, "I suggest you keep quiet." His smile faded as he returned to the pan. "Like I said, it's not my place to tell anyone else's story. Princess was and is a special case. We don't have any right to judge him or his actions."

Keith eyed him, inspecting every twitch of his face. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Cinnamon kept his eyes on his task, "Like I  _said_ , I'm not gonna say anything about his past. Just drop it and leave him be." He chopped at the scrambled eggs. "He's had a really hard life—probably worse than the rest of us. That's all I'll say."

"So wh—" a stack of plates was shoved into his arms.

Cinnamon pointed to the door, "Go set up the plates on the tables. Silverware is in the drawer under the microwave."

Keith stared down at the plates in his arms, "But what about—"

"Go." Cinnamon waved him off. "Once you're done, the kids can eat."

Keith rolled his eyes and walked out the the main area. There was so much he didn't know, but no one was telling him anything. He started setting a plate in front of every chair.  _Something is not right here. Why is no one talking?_

"That looks good." Cinnamon came out to check on his work just as he finished. "I'll go get the kids—"

"Wait!" Keith stopped him. "Please just—just give me a minute."

Cinnamon turned to him and crossed his arms to relax. "Alright, what?"

"Is  _anybody_  going to acknowledge the fact that I'm new and don't know what the fuck I'm doing?" Keith could feel his anger boiling.

"Huh," Cinnamon chuckled, "I get why he calls you Anger Management now."

Keith glared at him with exasperated eyes. "What am I...supposed to be doing here?"

Cinnamon took a long breath and thought for a moment. "King, the headmaster, is going to see you today. You can head there now—down the hall, take two rights and there's a nameplate on the door. He'll brief you on everything and get your dog tags."

"Dog tags?"

Cinnamon tugged on the chain around his neck, revealing a pair of his own. "We all have them. You'll get some, too. Go now."

Keith nodded and let him continue with the kids. "'Just go see the headmaster' he says," Keith mocked as he headed toward King's office, "'He'll tell you everything' he says."


	6. King's Meeting

"Voltron is a middle-man gang that interacts with all people and has a large number of customers." King's office was decorated quite darkly, but lightened up with natural light from a large window. He leaned back in his chair as he spoke. "Lady in White, the man with the scar, is the leader of the group. His partner is Princess Charming—everyone just calls him Charming. Cinnamon Roll is the orphanage chef, and is really good with kids. Gigabyte is our technology expert—and the youngest member of Voltron."

"Okay..." Keith fiddled with his hands, "But...I mean, what am I even doing here? Why me? You don't even know me."

King gave him a soft smile, "What's your name, kid?"

Keith hesitated for a second, but gave in. "Keith. Keith Kogane."

King scribbled down something on a piece of paper. "What's your birthday?"

"October twenty-third."

"And your blood type?"

"B+"

"Great." King took the slip of paper and stood up. "I'll be right back."

Keith was left alone in the office. He looked at the ceiling for cameras. When he found one behind him, he relaxed into his chair in defeat. Exploring wasn't an option with that there.

King returned about five minutes later with a chain hanging from his hand. He sat down at his desk and took out a lighter. After setting the chain down, he held up the piece of paper he had written his information on and lit it on fire, tossing it in his ashtray and letting it burn up. Keith gave him a confused look as he continued with his task.

King handed over the chain. Two dog tags hung from it, dangling above the papers on his desk. Keith hesitantly took it from him and read the words engraved in them.

 _Keith Kogane "Anger Management"_  
_Male_  
_10/23_  
_B+_

Again, Keith gave him a bewildered expression. The smell of burnt paper hit his nose as it permeated the air. These were the dog tags Cinnamon told him about.

"Those are yours," King explained, "Wear them at all times and don't show them to anyone. Now only you and I know your real name."

"Why?" Keith read the small letters over and over.

"Every Voltron member has one, it's a rule we have here." King lit his pipe with small puffs as Keith slipped the chain over his head. "Do you have any questions, my boy?"

Keith tucked the tags under his shirt like he had seen Cinnamon's placed. "Um...can I see my family?"

"Of course." King stood up and opened a cabinet full of hung-up keys. He retrieved one and tossed it over to him. "Return those when you get back. Anything else?"

Keith was surprised at how much explanation he was getting. He wasn't used to someone actually listening to him. "Yeah, uh...how does this work? I mean, I didn't want to be in Voltron anyway."

"Do you want to leave?"

"Well..." Keith hesitantly shook his head, "I...don't know yet. It doesn't seem that bad here. Plus, everyone fears you guys. It could be...cool, I guess."

"If you ever do," King let out a drag, "Then come see me and I'll take care of it." He sat and waited for anything else Keith had to say.

Keith scratched his cheek and thought about anything else he wanted to know. "Um...I have a few more questions."

Lying in bed staring at the ceiling, Keith thought over his situation. He had been living with Voltron for almost a week now, and it only made him more uneasy. At first, he was adamant about getting back home. Why? What was waiting for him there? Tony? Keith violently rubbed his eyes and groaned.  _No. Maybe this isn't as bad as I think it is. If I went back, I would continue living with my parents in some beat up apartment. I would keep going to the garage and avoiding people I didn't want to talk to. Nothing would change._

_Do I want things to change?_

Keith rolled over and stared at the wall.  _I can't be stupid and think that me being here is going to benefit the world in some way. This is a gang. Not a fucking safe haven._ The orphanage appeared in his mind. Voltron took care of the kids—even going as far as saving them from abusive situations.  _Every member of Voltron has a traumatic past._ Keith scoffed.  _Maybe I do belong here._

The faint sound of voices caught his ear. He couldn't make out the words, but he knew it was from above him.  _Princess and White._ He gagged and tried to fight his overwhelming curiosity.

"Well, yeah! But I don't get it." Keith finally heard coherent words from Princess.

White spoke in a tired groan, "I told you, he's good for us."

Princess took a moment of silence before asking, "What about  _us_?"

They stopped talking for a while. Keith tried to make out anything, but it was silent. He put his mind to rest and returned to his thoughts.  _I guess I could talk to Cinnamon tomorrow. He's nice to me._ He glared at the ceiling,  _Unlike a certain someone._

Keith sighed and looked over at the car keys on his desk.  _I'll talk to Mom and Dad and get everything squared away. I don't think they will care, to be honest. They're probably enjoying not having me around._ A small pang of guilt squeezed his chest.  _Yeah. If I live here, then they can be happy. They...never did like having me around, huh?_

A loud thud shook the ceiling, "Mm—ah! Fuck!"

Keith recoiled, "Fucking hell."

"Ah! White!"

Keith stuffed his face into his pillow.  _Of course they're fucking._


	7. Voltron

Life at the orphanage wasn't so bad, and Keith found himself settling in after a while. Keith learned a few things very early: don't ask anyone about their name or past; White and Princess were  _always_ all over each other and he should never point it out; Cinnamon and Gigabyte were friends as they both liked science and computers; and Princess and Cinnamon has some sort of rivalry or something going on. Other than being forced to do the boring dirty work, Keith didn't mind being there. Being a member of Voltron came with a  _major_ status increase. The stories he heard about them were always terrifying and fucked up, but they were all soft to the children and got along with each other—most of the time.

The hierarchy was pretty standard. The headmasters, King and Allure, ran the entire thing. They weren't around a lot, and if they were, they took care of the kids and orphanage business. That left White to lead Voltron itself. He was a no-bullshit kind of leader. As long as you didn't piss him off, he left you alone. Next in line was Princess. He didn't have much of a title, but since he was with White, he had much more power than everyone else. White and Princess's relationship wasn't straightforward. It was messy and complicated. Keith could never get any answers about it, so he was always confused. Under them were Cinnamon and Gigabyte. And on the bottom was Keith.

"Here." Princess handed him his leather jacket.

"Wha—" Keith snatched it from his grasp. "Why do you have this?!"

Princess leaned against the wall next to his room with a sucker in his mouth. He was dressed in his usual colorful attire: a tight violet glitter skirt, purple and white striped crop top, pink socks with purple hearts and white sneakers. "Look at the back."

Keith turned it over to see a red stretched out  _v_ shape across the shoulders—their mark. He clenched his jaw and put it on, "Don't touch my shit again."

Princess shrugged and led him out of the building. In the garage were an array of sports cars and trucks. Princess opened the garage door and jumped in a black Camaro. He hung out the window, "Are you coming or do you want me to leave you alone with cars?"

"Shut up." Keith sneered and hopped in the passenger side. "Why are  _you_ taking me out anyway?"

He backed out of the garage and headed down the long driveway. "Because no one likes you and I love going outside." He put dark shades onto his face and stuck the sucker back in his mouth. "Where do you live?"

Keith led him to his house. When they arrived, Princess cringed and turned the car off. "You live  _here_?"

"Yes. Now," he stepped out, "You should stay here. This isn't a great neighborhood to leave a car like this."

Princess lowered his sunglasses to give him an annoyed look. He stepped out of the car and locked it. "Do you know who you're talking to?" He started toward the grimy brick, "No one here is gonna fuck with Voltron property."

Keith rolled his eyes and mouthed, " _Oh my god, why?"_

"Are you coming?!" Princess stopped to snap at him. "This isn't  _my_ place!"

Keith huffed and started toward his door. When he reached it, he started to fiddle with the lock and turned to Princess. "You might wanna stay out here. My parents are probably home."

He wasn't amused, "You can't tell me what to do."

Keith rolled his eyes and opened the door. He scanned the room and peeked into the kitchen. His mother stood at the oven. She gave him a warm smile when he entered, "Hey there, baby!"

"Hey Mom." He gave her a hug, then pulled back and smoothed her hair. "Is Dad here?"

"He went to the store." Her eyes flickered over his shoulder. "Well, well, well." She placed her fists on her hips and smirked, "Who is this?"

Keith remembered Princess standing in the doorway. He looked back at him, "Uh, this is—"

A smile spread his cheeks as he stepped forward and held out a hand. "You can call me Princess. I'm a friend of your son."

"You're very pretty!" Keith's mother switched her eyes between them, "Is this the friend you've been staying with?"

Keith's cheeks puffed up in a blush, "Mom! That's not—!"

Princess giggled and threw his arm over Keith's shoulder, "Yes, he's been staying with me."

Keith shook his arm off, "But it's not what you think."

"Mm-hmm." She didn't look convinced. "Well," she shrugged, "Are you staying or..?"

Keith shook his head, "I'm just here to grab some of my stuff."

The front door opened as Keith's father stumbled in. He slammed the door shut and met the eyes of Keith and Princess. It took a moment for him to react. He pointed at Princess, "Who's this faggot?"

"Excuse me?" Princess's face tensed up and his eyes filled with anger.

Keith stepped between them, "This is my friend. I came by to get some of my stuff." He turned back to Princess, "This is my Dad."

"Be nice!" Keith's mother called to him from the kitchen.

"Yeah, whatever." His father pushed past him and set a plastic bag on the counter. He retrieved a beer from the fridge and motioned over to him. "What's his name?"

Keith didn't want to stay any longer. He couldn't get Princess mad or he might have his ass beat. "His name is Princess."

He scoffed, "Of course it is." He took a swing of his beer.

Keith tossed his hands in frustration, " _Dad!_ " He paused. "Are you serious?"

His mother leaned over and pat Keith's chest, "Just go get your stuff."

His father shrugged and looked at his wife, "What?"

Keith took a few steps back, then grabbed Princess's wrist to lead him away from them. He went into his room and stuffed whatever he could into a duffel bag. "Sorry about that."

Princess shrugged, "Not the worst thing I've been called." Even though he shook it off, he could tell that he was pissed.

Keith said goodbye to his parents and headed out to the car. When they got back to the sidewalk, Princess unwrapped another sucker and turned around to flip the dirty building off.


	8. Dance

Keith lied in bed wide awake with murder in his eyes.  _Did they have to do this every fucking night?_

"Ah! Ah! Harder! Please!"

Keith rolled his eyes and mashed his pillow into the sides of his head to try and drown out the overly obnoxious moans from the room above. He was still adjusting to life at the warehouse; and being the newbie, he got the room closest to White's. Even with his ears buried in his sheets, Princess's voice could still be heard. He clenched his jaw and mouthed, " _Please shut the fuck up."_

"Ah!" Unrelenting thumps vibrated through the ceiling. Charming was so obviously being tossed against the wall. "White!"

Lady's low voice was heard next, "C'mon, you know my name."

Keith was suddenly interested. Lady's name? Now, that's what he wanted to know.

Princess gasped and moaned for a few more seconds before crying out. "Mm! Papi! Ah! Daddy! Fuck me harder!"

"Oh my god," Keith recoiled in disgust. He rolled his eyes in disappointment and pushed his head back into the mattress.

"Cinnamon!" Keith whined as he entered the kitchen. He dropped his crossed arms onto the counter and buried his head. "I need coffee."

Cinnamon let out a hefty laugh and slipped over to the coffee maker. "Long night?"

Keith peeked one eye out from his arms, "You hear them, too?"

"No," he shook his head with a wide smile on his face, "Not anymore." He tapped the side of his head, "I have good headphones now and I'm not right under them."

"It fucking sucks." Keith let out a sleepy groan and hid his face again.

Princess's voice burst into the room with a peppy tone. "Cinnamon! Is that coffee I smell?"

"Yes it is," he set a cup beside Keith's arm. "Do you want some?"

Keith lifted his body up to sip the coffee. He was surprised to see that Princess wasn't dressed as brightly as he usually was. He wore a grey sweater crop top, black leggings, and white leg warmers. Princess accepted a mug from Cinnamon then glanced over at Keith, trying to stifle his laugh. "Hello Red, you look like shit."

"Fuck you." Keith took another sip and eyed him. "How are you even walking?"

"Are you going to practice?" Cinnamon leaned against the counter with a cookie in hand.

Princess's face slowly fell as he set down the coffee cup, "Yeah. For just a little bit."

Cinnamon averted his eyes, "Alright, just be careful."

"Pfft!" Princess hopped back toward the door. Keith could hear his dog tags jingle. "I'm always careful!"

"You know what I mean!" Cinnamon called after him as he slipped out of the room.

"Practice?" Keith tilted his head and set his empty mug in the sink.

Cinnamon waved him off and returned to cooking breakfast for the kids.

Curiosity was Keith's weakness. Especially for someone as private as Princess. He followed after him, keeping a safe distance behind to avoid drawing his attention. Princess walked upstairs and turned down the left hall. Keith had never been to the second floor—it was basically reserved for White. Princess reached a door and unlocked it with his own key ring. Everyone had one for the rooms they were allowed in, but Charming's was by far the most cluttered. Keith wouldn't be surprised if he had a key for  _every_ room.

After he closed the door behind him, Keith waited for a minute then walked up to it. Unlike the first floor, upstairs had a lot more decorations and open space. It was a lot brighter and elegant. The room Princess went into had two glass doors. Between them were three windows to see in. Keith stayed behind the cover of the wall and looked through the first window.

It was a dance studio. A really nice one. Bright wood floors spread out over a vast sea of sunlight and mirrors. Charming was stretching in the middle. After a few more poses, he stood up and hooked his phone up to a speaker sitting at the bottom of the mirror wall. The song he played was almost gentle. It had bass, but the words were smooth. He walked back to the middle and wrapped a hand around the pole the room featured.

When Keith noticed it, his chest sank a little.  _Is this what he does for White?_

Princess placed his other hand a little lower and closed his eyes. Keith waited for a few moments, but it was too long. He shifted his weight and checked down the halls to make sure they were clear. Charming still hadn't started. He just stared at the pole with a pained expression. Eventually, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead on it. His arms fell to his sides and he moved the pole to his shoulder, letting himself hang on it a little.

A hand grabbed Keith's shoulder, yanking his attention away from the studio. "He's good, isn't he?"

Keith whipped around to see White standing next to him.  _Shit!_ "Um," he didn't know how to respond, "He's just been warming up."

"Has he now?" White was not happy, but not at Princess. At Keith. "Come with me."

Keith was led into the studio. White held his shoulder too tight. His eyes were too hard. "Charming!" He greeted Princess with a faked smile. "Show the newbie your skills. He's interested."

Princess seemed to know what that meant. He glared at Keith as his cheeks reddened a little. "White, I don't think that's a—"

" _Dance_!" Lady's voice went hard and sharp.

Princess swallowed hard and gave an irritated nod, "Okay." He walked up to the speaker and started the song over.

White's fingers dug into Keith's collarbone, "Not this one. You know my taste."

Princess shot Keith another glare and put on a different one. This time it was a song with more bass and erotic lyrics. He strut back to the pole with pained eyes.

Charming was skilled. There is a difference between casual practice and years of experience. Princess had done this many times before. He was able to do moves that seemed near impossible. And whether it was spinning, on the floor, or upside down, he was fucking gorgeous. Whoever taught him spent their time and perfected everything. The fact that he was only seventeen made it that much more deplorable.

_Keith pulled back quickly, hitting his head on the wall. "Wait—!"_

_Tony threaded his fingers into the belt loops of Keith's jeans, forcing his hips into his own. "Just be quiet."_

_Keith's chest hurt with both pressure and fear. He pushed on his chest to try and keep him back, "I can't just—!"_

_Tony moved his arm away and brought their lips back together. He tasted of weed and liquor, which was nothing new. Large fingers ripped off Keith's jacket and unbuttoned his jeans._

White yanked Keith's shoulder toward him. He spoke in a stern, controlling tone. "I don't want you up here again."

Keith realized that Princess had finished and the music had faded. He met Lady's eyes with the same passive-aggressive intensity. "Understood."

White shoved him away and walked up to Princess, who put on his cheerleader persona and happily jumped into his arms. He gave him a quick kiss, then turned back to Keith. "Get out of here, Anger. I hope I've made myself clear."

"Yes, sir." Keith was snippy and annoyed. As he left the room, he took one last look back.

Princess noticed his eyes as White kissed his neck. He dropped his smile and glared back.

Keith huffed and left the room. When he angrily hopped down the stairs, Cinnamon ran up to him. "No, no, no! Anger! What were you doing up there?!"

Keith crossed his arms and headed toward his room, "Pissing off Lady, apparently."


	9. Abusive Mom

Pidge looked up from her computer screen at the sound of Anger and Cinnamon talking on the couch. It was much more comfortable to be in the back building instead of having to maneuver her way around a bunch of grabby kids in the orphanage. She didn't hate children, but they were particularly rough on her computer equipment.

Pidge lowered the lid of her laptop and set it on the counter in front of her. "Yo, Anger."

He turned around at the sound of her voice, "Yeah?"

She motioned with her head for him to come over. Anger stood and sat down next to her at the bar. Pidge laced her fingers together and tried to keep her emotions at bay. "I heard about what happened with White."

Anger's eyes fell a little bit. He clicked his teeth in annoyance. "He was just being an assho—!"

Pidge grabbed a fistful of his mullet and shoved his head down onto the bar. He struggled, but she was stronger.

Cinnamon stood from the couch, "Gigabyte, please stay calm."

"Shut up!" Pidge shut Cinnamon down immediately. She leaned down close to Anger's ear and yanked on his hair. "I'm gonna be blunt with you." Her voice sharpened and lowered to a near-whisper. "If you ever do anything to hurt Charming, I will have you hug by your balls."

Anger continued to struggle against her hold, "I didn't do anything to him!"

Pidge lifted his head to slam it down again. "Have you not listened to any advice we've given you?!" She took in an angry breath, "Don't fuck with White! That is the  _one_ rule you have to follow! Do you want your dick cut off and fed to the dogs?!"

"Gigabyte," Cinnamon set his hand on her shoulder, "That's enough."

Pidge breathed through her bared teeth. Her chest was filled with rage and her fists wanted blood. She groaned and pulled Anger back to drop him on the floor. Cinnamon knelt down to his aid, checking his head for any bleeding.

Pidge stepped over his legs and spit on him as she left. After walking a few steps toward her room, she slammed her fist into the wall. Her heart punched her ribs and suffocated her lungs.  _Not Charming._ The one person she couldn't handle getting hurt was him.

_"Katie!" Pidge heard her mother's angry voice shout up the stairs. "Get your ass down here right now!"_

_"Shit," Pidge stood up from her desk and hesitantly stepped down the stairs. Her mom was standing at the bottom with a scowl on her face and her arms crossed. When she reached the bottom, she hung her head. "Yes, Mom?"_

_Pidge was yanked by her hair and dragged into the kitchen. "Ow! Mom! Please stop!"_

_He mother shoved her face toward the counter at a slip of paper. "What the fuck is this?!"_

_Pidge fought against her hold and looked at the words on the page. Her report card. She knew that she wasn't doing well, but she couldn't get her grades up by midterms. "Mom, I'm sorry. I tried to do better!"_

_Her mom yanked her hair up and forced her face toward her. "What do you take me for?!" She tugged on her hair, taking a few strands out of her head. "Is this the thanks I get for taking care of you?!"_

_Tears streamed down Pidge's cheeks, "I'm sorry! Mom! Please!"_

_"Shut up!" She leaned down close to her face. "This is why your father didn't want you."_

"Gigabyte?"

Pidge was brought out of her flashback by Charming's smooth, soothing voice. "Are you alright?"

Pidge reached into her shirt and clutched her dog tags. She could feel her eyes start to burn. "No," she shook her head and spoke in a pitiful voice.

Charming gently placed a hand on her back, "Another flashback?"

Pidge finally broke down and wrapped her arms around his waist to cry into his shirt. "Yes!"

Charming gave her a sweet smile and pet her hair very softly. "Shh," he slipped her glasses off and held them in his hand. "You're okay now."

Pidge's arms trembled as her head started to hurt from the force of her crying. "I can't—I just—!"

"Shh," Charming rubbed circles into her back. "Tell me five things you see."

Pidge opened her eyes and scanned the hall. "Um," she sniffled, "The carpet, the window, the door, your sweater, and the wall."

"What color is the carpet?"

Pidge looked down at the floor, "Red. Dark red."

"What color are the walls?"

Her lungs jerked and shook her spine, "Brown."

His fingers were so light on her scalp. There was no hostility. No one was hurting her. Charming hugged her with the same gentle touch. "Where are you?"

Pidge's head was finally clearing. The fuzziness faded and her arms stopped convulsing. She took a deep breath to stretch her exhausted lungs. "I'm in the hallway of the Voltron headquarters."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm," Pidge looked up at him, "I'm hugging you."

He smiled down at her with sunny eyes, "And who am I?"

Pidge's tears subsided and began to dry on her skin. "My friend. Charming."


	10. Little Boy

Hunk carefully stepped up the stairs with a silver tray in hand. He tried to keep the dishes from clattering too much or falling off completely. He walked down the hall and stopped in front of a large room door. After adjusting his hold on the tray, he softly knocked on the door and prayed he got the better answer.

"Yeah?" Charming's gentle voice sounded through the barrier.

"It's Cinnamon."

"Come in."

Hunk walked into the room, leaving the door open behind him. The bedroom was littered with decorations and furniture around the edge. In the middle of the far wall was a large bed with an elegant curtain draped around it. The room was dim and still. Charming stood up from the bed and shut the curtains to separate them from the sleeping White.

Hunk set the tray on the vanity, "I brought breakfast."

"Thank you." Charming snatched a shirt from the ground and slipped it over his body. His dog tags sat on his chest, swaying with his movements. He sat down and started picking at the food.

"What about White?"

Charming's face was flat and emotionless. "He's passed out." He took a drink from the glass cup. "Drank the entire night."

Hunk almost went to leave, but he stopped and looked down at him. His once beautiful skin was littered with mask and bruises. As much as he wished it was fine, it almost definitely  _was not_. "Why are you doing this?"

Charming met his stare with fiery eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about." He took a quick bite of the toast.

Hunk furrowed his brows and insisted, "You know damn well what I'm talking about." He motioned to the bed with a defeated hand. "What's up with you? You're so different from before." He scoffed and shook his head, "We aren't even friends anymore."

"We're still friends." Charming's voice went hard and defensive. "And I don't care what you think about this. It's not your relationship."

"It's not a relationship," Hunk snapped.

Charming paused for a second in shock before furrowing his brows and pushing his lips together. "Get out."

Hunk sighed, "Yeah. Whatever." He walked to the door and stopped, "Your stuff's here, by the way. It's in White's office." And with that, he left.

_Hunk draped a blanket over the thin girl and rubbed her arm. "You're okay now."_

_White turned to look at them in the backseat. His eyes were full of pity. "Hey, what did they call you?"_

_She slowly raised her head and let her dull blue eyes drift around the car. "Ten."_

_White furrowed his brows, "They called you Ten?"_

_She nodded, "But I'm not..." Her voice trailed off and hugged the blanket tighter around her body._

_"Well," White turned into the orphanage. "What do you want to be called?"_

_Her glazed eyes flickered up to him as she opened her hesitant lips. It took a few moments for her to find her voice. White parked the car and turned around to wait for an answer. She fiddled with her hands and looked down at her lap. "A boy."_

_Hunk rubbed her back, "What?"_

_She met his eyes, "I'm a boy."_

"Cinnamon! Cinnamon!" A group of children ran up to him and tugged on his apron.

Hunk laughed and pat their heads, "What is it, guys?"

"Cookies!" A small girl held her arms up in excitement.

An older boy gave him a wide smile, "We wanna learn how to make cookies!"

Hunk's chest warmed. These children were almost his own. It was always nice to teach them and give them good memories. He pretended to think really hard, then shrugged. "I guess so!"

The kids cheered and jumps around as they followed him to the kitchen. While he held the door for them, he caught the eye of Anger sitting at a table. He had his arms crossed and his legs stretched out, obviously deep in thought as he stared at nothing. Hunk chuckled at his pissy attitude.  _He's a strange one._

Hunk joined the kids in the kitchen and began showing them what to put into the bowls. While they were mixing them, he took a look out the open door at him again. Now, he had his head leaned all the way back and his legs crossed and stretched out. Hunk stifled his laughs.  _Anger is...actually kinda cute. He's like a little baby._

"Cinnamon!" One of the kids called out to him. "What now!?"

"Coming!" Hunk took one last look at Anger and shook his head in amusement.


	11. Thank You Is Such A Strange Phrase

For once, Keith had a silent night. However, the bad part about that was that he couldn't sleep a wink. He lied in bed staring at the ceiling just waiting for the urge to fall asleep. After a few hours and countless fidgeting, he decided to give up and get out of bed. He walked through the gang headquarters to try and find something to do. The building was a lot quieter at night. The children were asleep in their rooms, Allure and King weren't around, and no one bothered anyone. There was no music, no chattering, no people.

Keith tried to open some doors out of curiosity, but they were either locked or just storage closets. When he reached the main room of the orphanage, he found a pack of Marlboros with a lighter in the box as he searched through the various drawers. "Bingo."

He stuck one between his teeth, but stopped as he realized he probably shouldn't smoke inside where kids live. He stuck it back in the box and headed up to the roof. He figured that there had to be some way to get up there. Being careful not to get caught on the second floor, he climbed out the tallest window he could find.

Surrounding the building were a lot of trees and the headmasters' house to the right. He swung his legs onto the roof and closed the window behind him. While scanning the area, he met the eyes of someone else a few feet away from him. His heart jumped and he clutched his chest, "Jesus! What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that." Princess had his bare legs hanging off the side. Only a large grey shirt hung on his body. He tried to act mad, but he was mostly embarrassed. "This is my spot."

Keith shrugged and lit his cigarette, "Well, I guess I'm joining you."

Princess lifted his knees up to hug them to his chest. He spoke with his head rested on them. "You smoke?"

Keith let out a puff of smoke, "Yup." He held the pack out for him, "Want one?" He immediately pulled it back, "Wait, sorry, you're underage."

Princess lifted his head and furrowed his brows, "How do you know that?"

"Oh," Keith lowered his eyes, "I was talking to Cinnamon Roll."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Princess shoved him to the side. "You're still stalking me?!"

"Hey. Hey!" Keith regained his balance to avoid falling off entirely. "I was the one that got thrown into this mess. I just wanted to know more about everyone."

"Well stop!" Princess shoved his arm again and returned to hug his knees, turning his head away. His breathing was shaky along with his legs.

Keith eyed him, "Are you cold?"

Princess let out a dramatic  _hmph_ and turned his head further. Keith rolled his eyes and slipped his leather jacket off. "Here." He set it over Princess's legs. "Don't want you getting sick."

He didn't move for a moment, but soon relaxed and slipped his arms under it, too. "Thank you." He held a hand out, "Gimme one."

It took a moment for the words to register in his mind. "Uh," Keith hesitantly passed him the box. "Have you smoked before?"

"No," he put one between his lips. "But I need one."

Keith snatched it before he could light it. "You stop that." He lit it for himself. "You don't need drugs. You're seventeen."

Princess pouted and reached for the cigarette. "Give that back! I wanna smoke!"

"You, don't, need, it." Keith spaced out the words as he fought him off. He started to laugh and took the cigarette from his mouth. "You are su—" Keith stopped when he realized what was happening.

Princess's eyes were reddened and his cheeks were tear-stained. He sniffled and wiped them off, "Please just give it to me."

Keith put it out against the roof tile. In the weeks he spent in the gang, he had never seen Princess cry. He was either peppy and flirtatious or angry and yelling. Not once did a tear fall from his crystal blue eyes. Keith wrapped one arm around his shoulders and used his free hand to cradle his head. His mother used to do it when he was crying, so it was instinct to comfort him.

"What are you doing?" Princess spoke into his chest.

Keith pet his hair, "It's called a hug. You're crying."

"Yeah, but why—"

"Just shut up and let me comfort you."

Princess gradually relaxed against his hold. Keith still couldn't get over how small he was. Even though he was only a few inches shorter, Princess was also  _so much_ thinner. It felt like he hadn't eaten for his entire stay at the orphanage. Charming's sobbing subsided and he wiped the tears from his cheeks with his bare wrist. Keith could feel his heartbeat quicken as he pulled away and looked in his eyes. He was different. Keith wasn't looking at the same person that was crying in his arms a few seconds ago. Princess ran his hand up Keith's thigh and moved to sit on his knees in front of him.

Keith held his arms up and leaned back, "Hey, what are you doing?"

"I just," Princess trailed off with a confused look in his eyes. "You helped me." He brought each hand to lean on Keith's thighs.

Keith held his shoulder in a panic when he started to lower his head. "Yeah I did, but—!"

Princess tilted his head in confusion. "But what? I'm just thanking you."

"Uh," Keith's face reddened, "You don't need to do that!"

Princess's face contorted into extreme bewilderment. "You...don't want me to?"

"No! You're—" he shook his head, "You're just a kid."

Princess took his hands off Keith and crossed his arms. "I'm only a year younger than you." He laughed in disbelief, "What? Straight? Are you a prude or something?"

"Uh," he chuckled and tried to calm his embarrassment, "No, I'm gay. But you're seventeen  _and_ with White."

"That doesn't matter."

"That doesn't—?!" Keith was taken aback. "Just—just no. A simple  _thank you_ is just fine."

Princess shook his head and sneered, "A  _thank you_?"

"Yeah," Keith inched away from him. "You know? What people do when someone does something nice for them?"

Princess stared at him in complete perplexity. "Just 'thank you?'"

Keith nodded, "Yes. Just 'thank you.'"

Princess sighed and shrugged, "You're weird, but okay."

" _I'm_ weird?" Keith chuckled in disbelief and ran his fingers through his hair. "Sure."


	12. The Party: Anger Management

"What are you guys talking about and why was I not invited?" Keith sat down at the table in the meeting room.

"Because no one likes you?" Princess sat White's lap with his fingers on his chest.

"Ha ha very funny," Keith sarcastically retorted. He looked to Cinnamon, "Seriously, what's going on?"

Gigabyte jumped in, "We're discussing the summer party."

"A party?" Keith tilted his head in confusion. "For the orphanage?"

"For the gang, dumbass," Princess teased.

White slammed his hand down on the table. "Back to business!" He turned to Cinnamon. "You've got the party house set up?"

"Yes, sir."

White looked at Gigabyte, "You've got all the invitations out?"

"Just sent them this morning." She took a sip of her soda.

"When is this thing?" Keith was so out of the loop on gang matters.

"Week from Friday." She pat his shoulder and leaned her chair back.

"Everything's good then," White stood from his chair, keeping a hand on Princess's waist. "Meeting adjourned."

Keith sighed in annoyance and stood to follow everyone out. When he saw Princess standing by himself, he went up to him. "Hey, so what's this thing about?"

He crossed his arms to relax, "Clients, really. It's good for morale as well."

Keith was still piecing everything together, "Clients?"

"Oh," Princess's eyes went a little wide. His silver glitter eyeliner flashed in the light. "You don't know. Okay well," he shifted his weight, "Voltron isn't necessarily its own business. We serve as a buffer between suppliers and buyers. We get paid for secrecy and discretion."

Keith mirrored his stance, "Well what do we deal then?"

Princess shrugged, "Quite a bit. Drugs, guns, wanted criminals, private investigators, money laundering." He struggled to name any more. "Stuff like that."

"So you guys  _are_ actually bad guys." Keith smirked and smoothed his hair back.

Princess giggled, "Who said we weren't?"

"Well," Keith motioned to the building, "You guys run an orphanage."

Princess's smile dropped and he turned to the side. "That doesn't make someone a good person." He left without another word, returning to Lady's arms on the couch.

Keith, being one of the muscular gang members, was forced to do most of the hard work at the party house. There were three floors: a main area with the kitchen and living room, upstairs with all the bedrooms, and the basement with a pool table and bar. It was a cabin on the lake with more windows than actual walls. Keith was tasked with setting up the stripper poles—one in the basement and one in the main area. He prayed to every god he knew that Princess was not the main attraction of them.

There were a lot more people than Keith would ever have thought. A Voltron party was a huge deal and it was an honor to be invited. A DJ was hired along with four pole dancers—much to Keith's relief. He decided on what he usually wore: black jeans and boots with his Voltron-patched leather jacket. Everyone wore the symbol of their gang as to not cause any social status issues. Keith quickly liked wearing the Voltron brand. No one picked a fight and he could push around whoever he wanted. After stealing some guy's drink, he stood along the wall and watched over his gang.

Gigabyte fawned over the suave DJ while Cinnamon talked up a group of friends. Keith searched through the crowd and found White smoking with other gang leaders. It took a while to locate Princess, which was nerve-wracking. The fact that the house had special bedrooms made him very worried for him. He finally spotted Charming down in the basement. He was pushing away grabby hands with an uncomfortable smile. Why White would let him wear fishnet tights with a short skirt and see-through maroon crop top was beyond him.

A man with a bandana nudged Keith's shoulder with his elbow. "You see the slut?" He had a cheeky smile and a beer.

Keith squinted in confusion, "The  _what_?"

The guy nudged his bottle toward where Princess was getting groped against the pool table. "The whore."

Keith shook his head in disgust, "Man that's my friend you're talking about."

"You seen her on a pole?" He looked excited and completely unfazed.

"It doesn't matter what I've seen  _him_ do." The man watched as shots were forced into Princess's hands.

Keith started toward them, but was stopped by his voice again. He chuckled and spat out, "Tightest pussy I've ever had."

" _What_?" Keith had had enough of this guy's shitty remarks. He shoved his chest back, "I suggest you shut up now."

A cheer erupted behind him as the men cheered on Princess's shots. The guy in front of Keith shoved him back, "Or  _what,_ fag?"

Keith immediately punched the guy hard enough to knock him out. A little trick his father taught him. His knuckles felt like they were being dunked in lava, but the man was down. Keith spit on him, "Or  _that_ motherfucker." He turned around to save Princess, who was staring at him in shock.

The men around him backed up and let Keith through as he put an arm around Princess's shoulder and led him upstairs. Charming stumbled a little, using him as support. "Oh my god! You fucked him up!"

"Yeah, whatever." He weaved them through the crowd. "How many drinks did they give you?"

Princess thought with a giggle, "Um...I don't know. A lot?" He put a hand over his mouth and stopped walking. After a moment, removed it and let his head drop back. "Take me to the bedroom on the end. Keys are in my pocket."

Keith rolled his eyes, "There are so many reasons why I don't wanna do that."

Princess snapped and grabbed a fistful if his jacket. "If you don't want to clean my puke from your shoes, then get me upstairs  _now._ "

Keith looked around for another option. "Um..okay here," he laced one hand behind his knees and picked him Please up. Keith walked over to Gigabyte, who eyed him with a judgmental stare. "Tell White that Princess got sick and I took him upstairs."

Gigabyte set down her soda and headed off, "Gotcha."


	13. The Party: Gigabyte

Pidge popped open a soda and headed over to the DJ. He was cute and always played the best music. Not that Pidge even cared. All she wanted was to get close enough to touch his equipment. Technology always fascinated her, taking the place of any relationship. "Hey Nick," she gave him a cute look and batted her eyes. "Nice to see you again."

Nick leaned onto his table and met her eyes, "Well hello again, cutie."

She giggled and let her eyes graze over the various buttons and switches under him. "So how are you doing? Any new DJ stuff?" Pidge averted her eyes for a second to see Anger scoping out the room. He had a concerned look on his face as he searched through the crowd. Eventually, he went down to the basement with a scowl on his face.

"Actually, yeah!" Nick held a hand out for her. "Come on up and check it out!"

Pidge took his hand and hopped up on the small platform. Nick showed him all of his equipment and even let her co-DJ for a few songs. He was from the Rebel Fighters gang. They were pretty laid back and tended to stay out of other people's business unless they were called to help. Pidge knew that the only reason he talked to her was because she was from Voltron. They had nothing in common. It wasn't like she cared anyway.

Pidge suddenly heard a thump from downstairs followed by gasps. It was distant, but she had great hearing. "Um Nick," she gave him a bright smile, "I've gotta go. Thank you, though."

"No problem!" He helped her down and returned to his business.

Pidge walked over to the basement door and peeked down the stairs. She kept her back to the wall as she caught sight of Anger spitting on some guy that was knocked out. She rolled her eyes in annoyance.  _Of course he did._ After stepping around the man, he retrieved Charming from the other side of the room. He draped his arm over his shoulder and led him up the stairs.

Pidge slipped back into the kitchen and watched them from a distance. She didn't know the full story, but Anger knocked a guy out and took Charming with him. Whatever happened, she didn't like the look of it. Opening another can of soda, she followed them with her eyes. Charming held his mouth and snapped at Anger. Pidge let out a soft chuckle at the terrible way Anger handled him. They locked eyes when he looked around the room and picked Charming up in his arms.

Anger leaned into Pidge's space and talked over the music. "Tell White that Princess got sick and I took him upstairs."

"Gotcha," she gave him a snarky nod and set down her drink. As Anger carried him up the stairs, Charming's fingers clutched his jacket as he buried his head into his neck. Pidge clicked her teeth in annoyance and walked over to the group of gang leaders. She leaned down into White's ear, "Charming got sick."

"What?" He turned to give her a bothered look, moving his cigar to an ashtray beside him. "Again? He does this every time."

Pidge kept her voice low, "Anger took him upstairs."

White furrowed his brows in exasperation, "Anger did?"

She nodded, "He said to tell you."

White huffed in irritation, "Whatever. I'm busy here."

Pidge gave him a look of annoyed disbelief, "You're not gonna check on him?"

White retrieved his cigar, "Charming's being an attention-whore. I'm not gonna deal with that right now." He waved her off. "Go somewhere else."

Pidge walked away, sticking her tongue out at him before turning around and searching for Cinnamon. She found him within a group of people, chatting up a storm. "Hey," she snatched the back of his shirt and drug him to the side, away from any prying ears.

"What's up?" He tilted his head in curiosity.

"I think Charming's making himself sick again." Pidge made sure no one was listening. "Do you know if we have any vitamin water around here?"

Cinnamon nodded with solemn eyes, "Yeah, I always keep some here because of that." He pointed to the kitchen, "There's a mini fridge in the locked cabinet with some." He gave her his key ring, "Unlock it with this."

"Thanks." She took them and continued on. If it was for Charming, then she would do anything. After retrieving a cold bottle of vitamin water, she headed up the stairs. As she reached for the door handle, louder voices were heard from inside. She stopped and leaned her ear against the door to listen.

"Someone has to!" Anger's voice was shaky and rang out. "Please just stop."

Pidge rolled her eyes.  _You're beating a dead horse, bud._

Charming sniffled, "Just leave me alone."

Pidge expected more shouting, but it was silent for a few moments. She almost opened the door again, but was stopped by a quieter Anger voice.

"Don't ruin yourself." He took a deep breath to let out a long sigh. "I hate to see you like this."

Charming scoffed, "I'm not your charity case. You don't have to stay and babysit me."

"Apparently I do." There was some shuffling and a small thud. The water turned on a couple times before a few taps were heard and it shut off. After a small groan, Anger's breath caught in his throat. "Princess, you can't just—"

"Shh!" Charming cut him off. "Just shut up."

Anger sighed, "You're a crazy son of a bitch, you know that, right?"

Charming giggled, "Yes. I'm aware."

Pidge didn't want to listen anymore. She saw where it was going and wasn't about to witness something she would have to lie about. If Charming wanted Anger to comfort him, then so be it.  _Why the fuck does Anger call him Princess?! His name is Charming!_

She groaned and squeezed the bottle of vitamin water. "Whatever," she spoke to herself, "If he doesn't want me, then he can get it himself."


	14. The Party: Cinnamon Roll

"Yes!" Hunk cupped his own cheeks. "The children are so sweet!" He placed a hand on the shoulder of the girl next to him. "They had me teach them how to bake cookies!"

"Aww!" The group of girls fawned over Hunk and his sweet voice.

"Yeah, they—!" Hunk felt a tap on his shoulder, then he was dragged away from the group. Gigabyte looked over her shoulder and leaned against the wall. She looked troubled and angry all at once.

"What's up?" Hunk wasn't sure how to react. It wasn't often that she got nervous or upset.

"I think Charming's making himself sick again." Gigabyte scanned the room with accusing eyes and crossed her arms. "Do you know if we have any vitamin water around here?"

Hunk felt his chest sink, "Yeah, I always keep some here because of that." He pointed to the kitchen, "There's a mini fridge in the locked cabinet with some." He handed over his key ring, "Unlock it with this."

"Thanks." With one last nod, she headed toward the kitchen.

Hunk stared down in his cup and watched the ripples wave. The gang knew about Charming's bulimia, but nothing was done about it. The only person he told was White—who told everyone else. Hunk didn't know why Charming did it. There were many plausible reasons, but he wasn't sure the exact one. When Charming arrived at the orphanage, he was always really touchy or distant. Hunk didn't comment on it because he knew that it was the product of the place they had saved him from.  _Save. That's a strange word._

Hunk took a sip of his drink and looked out the window.  _Did we save Charming or just put him in yet another bad situation?_

In the corner of his eye, Hunk saw Gigabyte angrily stomp down the stairs and slam the bottle of vitamin water on the counter. Her hair ruffled and jerked with all of her frustrated movements. She walked past White, who said something that made her flip him off. Hunk sighed and quickly went after her. If she got angry and things were out of hand, then she could hurt someone. It wouldn't be the first time.

Hunk finally caught up to her when she stepped outside. He put a hand on her shoulder to spin her around. "Hey! What happened?"

Gigabyte stared up at him in tense silence for a moment before furrowing her brows and crossing her arms. "Charming's just being the whore he always is."

Hunk laughed to try and lift the mood, "What's that supposed to mean?"

She averted her eyes and clicked her teeth. "Whatever. I don't care."

"You're not listening to me." Hunk set a hand on her arm. "What happened?"

Gigabyte shoved him off with troubled eyes, "Nothing, okay? I'm fine." She turned around with her arms still crossed and walked away.

Hunk thought about following her, but decided it was best to leave her alone for now. After thinking about it for a minute, he returned inside. As he walked by White, he grabbed his wrist and locked eyes with Hunk. "Is she okay?"

Hunk gave him a soft smile and nodded, "I took care of it. Don't worry."

"Sure." White released his grip and resumed his conversation with the other gang leaders. Hunk's eyes lingered over him for a moment before looking up at the walkway of the upper floor. 

Anger stepped out of the far door and shut it behind him, saying one more thing before he did. When it closed, he turned around and leaned his back against it. His face gradually lifted as a smile curved his cheeks. It was a rare sight to see Anger smile. He was usually snappy and annoyed. Staring down at the floor, he kicked a foot out and laughed to himself. With one last drawn-out breath, he pushed himself off the door and started toward the stairs. As he reached them, the door opened again with a frowning Charming. He furrowed his brows and said something to Anger before crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Anger flashed him a smile and replied with a shake of his head. After he said it, Charming's eyes dropped as his face surrendered as well. Anger almost stepped down onto the staircase, but he stared at him and backed up. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked up to Charming, leaning against the other side of the doorframe. They talked in a tense calm without meeting gazes.

"Hey Cinnamon Roll!" Hunk's attention was dragged away as one of the girls from before waved to him. "Tell us about Amy!"

Hunk flashed an excited smile and returned to the group.


	15. The Party: Lady in White

Shiro took a long drag of his cigar, letting the smoke seep into his lungs before releasing it slowly. "We can hold the guy for a week. After that, he's gotta go."

The Galra gang leader, Lotor, leaned forward. "You sure that's good idea with that whore of yours?"

Shiro furrowed his brows and locked eyes with him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Lotor's eyes flickered with a glint of mischief. He sat back in his armchair and lit a cigarette. Locking eyes with Shiro, he finally spoke. "That man is from the brothel."

Shiro let his eyes shut as he took in a deep breath. "Ah, I really wish you hadn't told me that."

A hand set two taps on his shoulder then leaned down into his ear. "Charming got sick."

Shiro turned to see Gigabyte next to his head. "What?" He sighed and moved his cigar to the ashtray next to him. "Again? He does this every time."

Gigabyte glanced at the other gang leaders and kept her voice low, "Anger took him upstairs."

White furrowed his brows as his tone shifted to frustration, "Anger did?"

She nodded, "He said to tell you."

White huffed in irritation, "Whatever. I'm busy here." If Charming was going to be difficult, then he could bother Anger.

Gigabyte raised an eyebrow at him, "You're not gonna check on him?"

Shiro retrieved his cigar, "Charming's being an attention-whore. I'm not gonna deal with that right now." He waved her off. "Go somewhere else."

Gigabyte gave him a confused and offended look before walking away. The Blade of Marmora gang leader, Kolivan, watched her leave. "Trouble with the team?"

"Ah," Shiro took a drag, "Just a little drama. Nothing to worry about."

"Does it involve your little pet," Lotor chuckled.

Shiro laughed, "Unfortunately, yes."

Kolivan kept his usual serious face, "Do you need to go?"

Shiro shook his head, "No, he's with someone else."

"Oh?" Lotor smirked. "Is that alright? You know how he is."

Shiro's chest filled with anger. He could feel his hands start to shake and his heart beat faster. Taking a breath to keep his cool composure, he stared back with an intense gaze. "I saved that boy and he's been mine ever since. I'm not worried about some low level punk stealing him away from me." He paused to let the words sink in, then changed the subject. "So the brothel was shut down, I'm assuming?"

Kolivan nodded, "They were caught with more minors."

"That's why I need Voltron to hide him for a while." Lotor took another drag of his cigarette. "This guy's a  _'friend'_ of mine."

"I already accepted, you don't have to sell him." Shiro crossed his legs and took another puff. "Charming will have to be okay with it. It's his job as a Voltron member."

"You're boy's an asshole!" Gigabyte stomped by him with her fists clenched.

Shiro laughed, "No, you're just a brat."

"Fuck you." She flashed her middle finger and walked off.

Lotor's deep and judgmental laugh crossed into the laidback atmosphere. "Well, I'll have my guy bring him over on Monday." He pointed at him with the end of his cigarette. "If you still want to get laid, then I would suggest you keep that whore locked away."

Shiro gave him a dark smile and and rested his cigar between his teeth. "Understood."


	16. The Party: Princess Charming

White massaged Lance's thigh with a rough hand as he drove with the other. "You feeling alright, my love?"

Lance tugged the end of his skirt down and fiddled with his fishnet tights. "Yes, I'm great." He swallowed his anxiety and rubbed White's arm with a sweet look.

"Well, I wish I could be with you and your pretty little smile." White gave him a gentle kiss on the back of his hand. "It's a shame I can't have fun with you. Drinking and playing pool like we usually do."

Lance felt his chest warm a little. White was sweet to him when they weren't in bed. "I know. It's okay, I'll have fun by myself or with Anger."

White's eyes hardened. He huffed and shook his head, "Not Anger. I don't like him."

Lance furrowed his brows and tilted his head. "What? But you're the one who made him join."

White shrugged, "He's a great fighter. It's good to increase numbers, as well." He put the car into park when they arrived at the house. There were a bunch of other gangs there, talking and drinking in the evening light. "They already think we cover more area than we do."

"Yeah." Lance watched the various leather jackets as he let his mind wander back to a night long ago.

"Ah! White!" Lance didn't even need to work to be bounced on top of him. He cried out more in pain than pleasure; but this wasn't anything new. In fact, by now it pretty much all blurred together. This also wasn't his first time with White.

White's fingers dig into his hipbones, "Baby, you're so good." He pulled him down harder with each thrust.

"Ah!" Lance braved himself with his hands on White's chest. "Please, Papi!" A faint jingle of metal tapped his fingers. Sitting under his fingertips was the chain of White's dog tags. His body continue to react the way it was supposed to while his mind focused on the metal ridges. Looking at each other's dog tags was forbidden, but it could be so easy to see what his name was. The answer was right next to his hands.

Lance let out a yelp as White's nails gripped too hard, leaving behind bruises and puncture marks.  _Whatever. It doesn't matter if I know his name or not. I might as well read it._ Lance slowly opened his clamped eyes and focused on the small words.

_"Shiro"gane Takashi "Lady in White"_   
_Male_   
_02/29_   
_Type B+_

"Charming?" White's voice brought Lance out of his daze. He gave him a concerned look. "Are you okay?"

Lance smiled as wide as he could and batted his eyes, "I'm great. I'll see you later, then?"

After giving White a kiss goodbye, Lance wandered around the house for a little while. He couldn't find Anger on the main floor; so, praying he wasn't in one of the private rooms, Lance headed downstairs. A flash of what seemed like the Voltron patch caught his eye, but as he neared the pool table, he realized he had seen wrong.  _Where is he?_

"Hey there, Ten!"

Lance's chest filled with an intense hatred at the old name. He slowly turned his head to see a group of men he had seen before. The larger man with too many tattoos was Sean; the scrappy guy with bony arms was Hank; and the shorter guy with a sharp jawline was Michael. They blocked him in around the pool table.

Sean set a hand on Lance's shoulder and gave him a look he had seen many times before. "Hello there. Weren't you gonna say hi?"

Lance shook his hand off and puffed his chest. "I don't know you. And I'm in Voltron, so I suggest you back off."

"Oh, come on baby." Michael stepped forward, invading more of his space. "You've got to remember this hot piece of ass." He pointed to himself as he said it. His eyes trailed over Lance's body, "You've changed quite a bit over the years."

"Yeah," Hank placed a hand on Lances chest, "No more of those beautiful tits."

Lance shoved his arm away and gave them a tense smile, "White's looking for me."

"Nonsense," Michael forced a shot glass into his hand. "Drink. Let's have fun." He got really close to Lance's ear. "Just like old times.

 _Whatever._ Lance flashed a smile and took the shot, cringing a little after it was down.  _These guys aren't gonna leave me alone, and I don't wan to cause a scene and make White mad at me._ They cheered and handed him another, this time a different color. As Lance was putting on his playful persona and taking whatever they gave him, Michael's hand wandered up his skirt and grabbed his thigh.

Lance forced a laugh and tried to remove it, but the other two were closing him in. His head was getting cloudy as they all grabbed whatever they could without bringing unwanted attention. Lance tried shoving them off and offering to take another shot to distract them, but they persisted. Just as Michael's hand reached his crotch, a loud crack and shocked gasps sounded from the other side of the room.

Anger spat on a guy writhing on the floor. "Or  _that,_ motherfucker." He turned around with a fiery expression and walked over to Lance. All three guys stepped back and kept their distance as Anger wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led him upstairs.

"Oh my god, you fucked him up!" Lance was still processing what had happened.  _Anger just punched a guy and saved me._ His chest filled with an embarrassing warmth.  _Anger saved me._


	17. The Party: Charming and Anger

Keith sat on the bed as Princess threw up behind the half-closed bathroom door. He scrolled through his phone for a while until getting bored and putting it away. "So, uh—did you know any of those guys?"

"No," he groaned. "Not really."

Keith realized the strangeness of the situation. "And you let them grope you?"

Princess was silent for a moment before snapping. "Are you trying to be an asshole or are you  _actually_ dumb?"

"I mean, you could've just walked away. Why didn't you?"

"Oh my god!" He slapped the cabinet door. "You really are an ass aren't you?" His foot opened the door a little so he could glare at him. "You think I like getting harassed?! You think it's fun for me?"

Keith shook his head and crossed his arms, "That's not what I meant." He shrugged and hesitantly continued. "I mean when you dress the way you do—"

"Shh! Shh!" Princess cut him off with a frantic hand. "If you tell me it's my fault I swear to god I'll castrate you myself."

"I'm just saying," Keith tossed his hands in confusion, "If you didn't dress like a prostitute, then they wouldn't harass you."

"You think I want to be harassed?!" Princess motioned to his black skirt. "Does anyone ever ask why they would harass me instead of telling me to change?!"

"Princess, I didn't mean to—"

He scoffed and pushed the door closed again. "Whatever, douchebag." His gagging started up again, leading to forceful coughs and hacks.

Keith bowed down like the scolded dog he was. He felt embarrassed and pitiful. "So," he kicked his foot out as he tried to backtrack, "Do you even like wearing those clothes?"

Princess spit and shifted his weight, scraping his heels on the ground. "What do you think?"

Keith sighed and nodded, "I get it." He looked around at the decorations to distract himself. "So, then why  _do_ you wear them?"

"Do you ever shut up?!" Princess pounded on the door to ward him off. "You don't have any right to judge me! You don't know my story! Stop acting like it!"

"Then tell me!" Keith sliced the air with angry gestures. "I don't know anything about you, but I want to!" When he didn't get a response, he continued. "Why do you act one way around everyone, but differently around me?! Why did you look so pissed when you were dancing?! And why the fuck does every man here call you  _the slut_ and treat you like a common street whore?!"

Princess opened the door, staying on his knees and glaring up at him with hateful eyes. "Because I've met them before."

Keith stood from the bed, "You said you didn't know them!"

"I don't!"

"Then what are you talking about?!" Keith could feel his blood boil. He was so angry that all he was gifted with was more questions. He just wanted an answer. Just  _one._

Princess's eyes fell in frustrated disbelief. "You're really dense, aren't you?"

Keith clicked his teeth and huffed. He tugged on his hair, "What does that  _mean_?"

Princess stared at him like he was the biggest idiot he had ever seen. His lips glistened with bile and tears. They quivered with hesitant words. He took a deep breath and finally spoke. "I'm trans."

Keith's shoulders softened as the words set in. He blinked his eyes a few times in realization. "Oh." Slow and defeated, he sat back down on the bed. "But...but what does that have to do with anything?"

Princess wiped his mouth with a hand towel. "It  _means_ that I didn't always look like a man." He clenched his eyes shut. "And dirty old guys love little girls."

Keith's chest convulsed with disgust and shock. "But...you're only seventeen."

Princess nodded, "Yeah. I'm only seventeen." He nudged the door closed with his foot.

Keith lifted his spinning head, "Tell me your story."

Princess gagged and threw up again. He spit to clear his mouth. "No."

Keith couldn't see him behind the half-opened door.  _What had this man been through?_ The vomiting became really violent and frequent, raising concern in his bones. "Does drinking really make you that sick?"

Princess's gagging halted. He sniffled, "No, but I can't drink that much."

Keith stopped and replayed his words over and over. "Wait, what's  _that_ supposed to mean?"

Princess threw up again and groaned. "Just shut up and let me be for a while."

 _No. Something's not right._ Keith stood up and pushed open the door with his fingertips. Princess was knelt down over the toilet bowl with his fingers in his mouth. When it clicked in his mind, Keith snatched the hand towel and dropped down next to him. He yanked his fingers out and wrapped his hand in the towel. "What are you doing?!"

"It's fine!" Princess fought against his relentless hold. "Just let me go."

"No, it's  _not_ fine!" Keith wiped the vomit off his cheeks and softened his voice. "You can't do that. It's dangerous for your throat."

Princess slapped his hand away, "I don't care!" He wiped the tears that had been formed from the gagging. "Just leave me alone. I've done just fine by myself."

Keith's chest hurt. It cried and tore at his mind. "It's not okay!" He grabbed Princess's cheeks and locked their eyes. "You can't do this to yourself! It's a terrible thing!"

"You can't tell me what to do!"

"Someone has to!" Keith was angry at first, but now his heart was filled with pity. He gave in and brought Princess's head to his chest. "Please just stop."

Princess pulled away with a forceful yank. His eyes still held the same hateful intensity. "Just leave me alone."

Keith stared into his eyes for a while before he spoke. "Don't ruin yourself." He took a deep breath to let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I hate to see you like this."

Princess scoffed, "I'm not your charity case." He crossed his arms and stuck his nose up. "You don't have to stay and babysit me."

"Apparently I do." Keith stood up and searched the counter for a toothbrush, then toothpaste. He handed it to Princess, who gave him an annoyed look and took it. When he finished, he stood up and cleared his mouth.

Keith sat back down with a small groan. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. After a few breaths, a pair of hands rubbed his shoulders and sat in his lap. Keith's eyes shot open to see a pair of blue staring back at him. He shook his head and held his hands up, "Princess, you can't just—"

"Shh!" Princess covered his mouth with his hand and switched to a whisper. "Just shut up." His eyes drifted as he furrowed his brows.

Keith gave him a questioning look until he took his hand away. He sighed, "You're a crazy son of a bitch, you know that, right?"

Princess giggled, "Yes. I'm aware." He lowered his smile and quietly leaned into Keith's ear, "Someone was listening to us."

Keith's chest jumped. He kept his voice at a whisper as well, "Are they still listening?"

He dropped his forehead into Keith's shoulder and focused. Keith couldn't fight the overwhelming urge to hug him as he did, wrapping his arms lightly around his waist. Princess jerked his head back up and gave him a questioning stare. His cheeks reddened, "Uh—they're not—uh, no one's there...anymore..."

 _This boy...is gonna get me in trouble._ Keith gulped and bit his cheek. He averted his eyes and shook his head. "Princess, you better get off my lap before I do something I'll regret."

His red face brightened up even more, "Something you regret?"

"I'm serious." Keith tried to calm himself and keep his eyes away. "Just go."

Princess leaned back a little, but hesitated. "Do you..." he gave him a confused inspection, "Do you like me?"

Keith raised an eyebrow at him, "Do I  _like_ you?"

"Yeah," he nodded and lowered his voice, "like...do you—are you...?"

Keith stared at him for a moment before asking, "Do  _you_ like  _me_?"

Princess blushed harder and kept his mouth shut. His hands trembled and his lips quivered. "I love my boyfriend."

Keith furrowed his brows in thought.  _Seventeen. He's seventeen._ As much as he would like to believe it, he knew that Princess wasn't in his right mind or even remotely mature enough to understand the mess he was getting himself into. He didn't mean to be that way, but he was way too comfortable with people touching him—sexually or not. Although, surprisingly, the most interesting part of this entire interaction was the fact that he confirmed that White was his boyfriend. Keith finally has at least a little closure. He gently pushed him off his legs. "Get off."

Princess sat back against the wall and hugged his knees. "You're so strange.

" _I'm_ strange? Do you ever look at yourself?"

Princess pouted and looked away from him, "You're an asshole, too."

The door opened and White's booming voice filled the room. "Alright, Anger. I'm here to take your place." He walked up to the bathroom, placing a hand on the doorframe.

"Uh, what?" Keith furrowed his brows.

White gave him a confused look, "To watch over Charming? You can go now."

"Oh!" Keith stood up from the floor and adjusted his jacket. "Yeah, of course. I'll just—" he pointed at the door, "I'll leave you to it, then."

Princess refused to look at him as he left, choosing instead to cling to White's neck. Keith ignored the urge to stay and left the room, closing the door behind him.


	18. Morning After

Lance groaned and clutched his stomach as he woke from the restless night before. He calmed his overworked lungs and hissed through the soreness in his joints. White's arm was draped over his waist, which he promptly shoved off along with the blankets. Lance stood up from the bed with wobbly legs and went into the bathroom connected to White's bedroom, making sure to shut the door and lock it behind him so White didn't catch him like this. Lance stared at himself in the mirror as he leaned on the sink counter. Bruises dotted his hips while bites and hickeys ran down his ribs and thighs. They gave him Dalmatian scars of shameful constellations. Nothing good had ever been associated with marks such as these. He never understood the satisfying feeling that couples got by seeing them painted on their skin.

_"Ow," Lance whimpered._

_White immediately stopped and looked up at him sitting on his hips with concerned eyes. "What's wrong? What hurts?"_

_Lance braced himself up with his hands on White's chest. He calmed his racing heart with deep breaths through his teeth. "It's nothing. I'm okay."_

_White pushed himself up to bring Lance to his chest. He pet his hair and rubbed circles into his back. "Let's stop, okay?"_

_Lance wrapped his arms around his neck and whined, "No." White let him wear his shirt to cover his chest and give him a small break from the dysphoria. He didn't know this man very well, but he felt something when he was around him. Beaming with a calm gentility and cradling him with strong arms, White had a way of making him feel safe. Lance had never felt that way with anyone else. Maybe it was that thing people called love. Even at fifteen, he could tell this was something more. White felt it too—he had to. Lance cupped his cheeks and kissed his lips. "No." He hardened his shaky voice. "Erase them."_

Lance didn't realize he was crying until a tear fell onto the back of his hand. He gave it a surprised look, then wiped his eyes and turned the shower on. Using almost scalding water helped wash away the feelings of the night before. But even after he was clean, he could still feel large hands on his smooth skin.

 _I feel disgusting._ Lance let his back lean into the wall. He slowly slid down to hug his knees and let the water burn his hair.  _I'm tired. I'm in pain._ He sniffled a few times as he let out quiet sobs. Tears mixed with the streams of water and ran down the drain. Nothing Lance did could erase the memory of being fucked until he passed out for so many years.

What could he have done? It was all he knew.

After showering, Lance skipped down the stairs and fiddled with the keys in his hand. He wanted to be by himself for a little while. Lance loved White, but it was tiring hanging on him like arm candy all the time.

The whooshing of a broom caught his attention as he reached the main room of the orphanage. Anger moved various objects and chairs as he swept. He wore his normal jeans and boots but paired them with a wife beater, letting his dog tags hang outside of his shirt. His hair was put up into a ponytail and white earbuds hung from his ears.

Lance stayed behind the cover of the stairs and watched him struggle with his chores. Anger had a strange way of acting like he didn't give a shit when he actually cared too much. No matter what Lance did to keep him away, he always found some kind of information about him. It was both relieving and frightening to think about what will happen when he learns of Lance's past.

Lance liked Anger. He really did. From the moment he saw him, he was interested in what he was like. The way he held himself was built like a soldier, but sloppy like a child. When Anger asked about him on his first day, Lance got scared. The times he had to sit in some empty room and tell his story only brought a layer of pity and disgust to the listener. No one could handle knowing what he did—what kind of person he had been since he was a child. They didn't know how to treat someone who didn't know anything but sex.

"Fucking hell," Anger shoved a chair aside and wiped his forehead.

A giggle formed Lance's throat as he watched the action. Strange, warm feelings shifted his aching bones and relaxed his mind. "Wow, Red." Lance stepped out from the cover of the stairs and walked over to him. "You're quite the maid." He crossed his arms, "Do you need a raise?"

Anger sneered and let out a playful laugh. "Oh, fuck off. Not like you could do any better."

"I would take you up on that challenge, but I know it's only to get me to do your chores." Lance averted his eyes and tried to hide his smile. "So the party's tomorrow."

"Yeah, it is." Anger sighed and ran a hand through his bangs. "I still have to do a few things."

"Hmm?" Lance raised an eyebrow at him. "You're still not done?" He tried to catch a look at Anger's dog tags, but couldn't read them.

Anger's cheeks reddened a little and he turned his head to look around the room. "Well,  _Princess,_ I'm the only one doing anything around here."

Lance's heart jumped.  _Call me that again._ He clicked his teeth in fake annoyance and rolled his eyes. "The only princess here is you."

"Oh, very funny." Anger shook his head and sneered. "You're just a litt—"

"Charming!" White's deep voice called down to him from the stairs.

Lance looked up at him with a calm expression, "What is it?"

He stared down at Anger with a commanding aura. One of his hands clutched the railing while the other cradled a cigar. "Come back up, I want to see you."

Lance's chest convulsed and he swallowed hard. Flashing a bright smile, he responded in the jumpy voice he always does. "Alright, I'm coming!" He turned back to Anger.  _Please call me that again. Say my name._ "I guess I'll see you around, Red."

Anger gave him a playful smile, "See you around, Princess."

Lance headed toward the stairs with a hand on his chest. He felt like some kind of child. It was a classic, movie cliche crush and he couldn't stop it. As much as he wanted to act his age, it was impossible with the life he had. But one thing he could count on to bring his spirit up was Anger's snarky  _"Princess."_

Lance reached the top of the stairs and kissed White's cheek.  _Maybe we can be friends one day._


	19. Dinner Tonight With Three Names

Keith wiped the sweat from his brow and stepped back from the engine. Gigabyte asked him to look at her car since he was a great mechanic. Even though it was autumn, the sun still blazed down on him. He scrubbed his hands as he looked down the driveway. The sound of a low motor had caught his attention.

Three black cars with tinted windows drove up to the orphanage. The leader of the Galra, Lotor, stepped out of the first car and gave him a wave. Lady got out of the last car and walked up to Keith as two other Galra tended to the middle one. White put his hands on his hips and towered over him, "I need you to do me a favor."

Keith looked past him and watched Lotor drag a man out of the second car by his head. He had longer greyish-brown hair and was dressed in a black t-shirt and distressed jeans. "What's going on here?"

Lady glanced back at them, then huffed. "I need you to go inside and get Charming. Take him somewhere out of sight and make sure he doesn't see us."

Keith furrowed his brows and crossed his arms. "Where are you taking him?"

"He's going to our holding room in the basement." Lady held up an arm to stop Lotor from going inside. "I don't care where you take him, but keep him calm and don't tell him about who we have."

Keith took a few breaths as he thought about how to respond. "Who is he?"

Lady sighed and sharpened his voice, "Go get Charming." He shoved him toward the door. "Now."

Keith rolled his eyes and went inside. He found Princess with some kids at a table coloring. Grabbing his arm, he pulled him toward the hall. Princess fought against his hold with a panicked voice. "Wait! Anger! What are you doing?"

"Shut up." Keith stopped and switched his eyes from the stairs to the hall. "Where should I take you, my room or White's?"

Princess's eyes widened, "Uh—just—yours, I guess."

"Understood." Keith continued down the hall, keeping a hold on his forearm. As he reached his room door, he realized how frightening the situation probably was. He pulled out his keys and turned to Princess. "White asked me to take you somewhere safe." He lowered his eyes, "Are you okay?"

After a few shaky breaths, Princess nodded and tucked his hands into his stomach. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Keith clicked his teeth and unlocked the door. He held out an arm toward the room, "C'mon."

Princess hesitantly stepped in his room and looked around. Keith closed the door behind him and shut his blinds. "Just stay in here for a little while."

"Why?" Princess sat down on his bed. "Am I in trouble?"

"What?" Keith gave him a confused look. "No, of course not." He felt a pang if guilt in his chest when he saw how much Princess was cowering. His eyes were dropped down as his hands fiddled with his red skirt and oversized black shirt. Keith shook his head and stepped toward the door, "Just stay here. I'll be back to get you."

"Wait!"

Keith turned back to see his arm raised toward him. He furrowed his brows, "What?"

His face went sour, "You're just gonna leave me here alone? In your room?"

Keith sighed in annoyance, "You were the one who chose my room in the first place."

"Yeah, but that's not what I—!" Princess stopped himself and crossed his arms, looking away. "Whatever."

Keith scoffed and shook his head, "You're so fucking bipolar."

He stood up from his bed and whined, "I don't want to stay here anymore."

"You—!" Keith groaned in annoyance and looked out the window. The black cars weren't there. "Alright," he crossed his arms, "Where fo you want to go?"

Princess thought for a moment, "Hmm..." Drifting around the room, he let his fingertips brush over random objects. After a minute, he spoke. "What's your dad really like?"

Keith raised an eyebrow at him, "What?"

"All I've seen him do is call me a faggot." Princess's eyes glazed over in thought. "People aren't just evil. So what's he like? I can tell you guys get along."

Keith was confused for a moment. "Um," he rubbed the back of his neck, "Sorry about that."

"It's okay," the corners of his lips twitched into a faint smile. "It really doesn't bother me."

Keith felt a small pang of guilt. It seemed to be a theme of their interactions. "It should."

Princess turned to give him a sweet smile and shake his head. Then he returned to looking at all his things.

"Do you...want to meet them?" Keith didn't really think about the words until they left his mouth. This kid in his room didn't have any parents or a real home; maybe a family dinner was something he deserved.

Princess smirked, "Are you asking me to meet your parents?"

Keith stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and laughed. "I'm asking if you'd like to have a nice dinner. Somewhere other than an orphanage."

Princess pouted and crosses his arms. "I eat in restaurants, too. Fancy ones."

"Sure you do." Keith shrugged. "Yes or no,  _Princess_?"

He took a long breath and let his eyes drift. Lips parted and face relaxed, he thought about the offer. "Actually..." he switched back to his snarky attitude, "I'll do it, but only because I want to offend your father more."

Keith opened the door and scanned all the entryways, "Knock, knock."

"Sweetie?!" His mother's voice called to them. "Is that you?!"

"Yeah!" He glanced at Princess. "I brought a friend."

"Really?" She poked her head out from the corner. Her eyes lit up when she saw them, "You brought the pretty one back!" She walked over to him with her arms outstretched.

Princess enthusiastically accepted her hug, "Nice to see you again, Mrs. Kogane."

 _Wait._ Keith gave him a surprised look, "You—"

"Oh please, honey! Call me Krolia." She hugged him again and looked over his outfit: a white floral dress and with a red bow and matching Mary Janes. "Oh my! I guess Keith has great taste."

"Mom!" Keith let out a nervous chuckle. "Uh, let's get that dinner going, huh?"

"Oh! Yes!" Krolia skipped back into the kitchen.

Keith looked over at Princess, who was stifling his laughs. "Don't you dare." He almost walked away, but stopped. "How did you know my last name?"

Princess couldn't contain his cheeky smile. "On your dresser...you have a picture of your parents with  _Kogane_ written at the bottom. I just figured that was right. I was correct." He laughed, "Should I ignore what I heard?"

"Please do." Keith rubbed his eyes in frustration. "I forgot to brief them."

"You know," Princess hopped back toward the kitchen, "I don't think I wanna forget."

"You little—!" Keith chased him through the doorway, catching him by the waist and lifting him up.

"Wait!" Princess slapped his arms and laughed hard. "Put me down! Anger!" He laughed harder, "Keith!"

Keith lowered him back down and shared a giggling stare. He pointed at him, "Don't ever say my name outside these walls."

"Aw! You guys are so cute!" Krolia's voice cut through the fun atmosphere.

Keith's father called out a teasing, "When's the wedding!?"

Keith grabbed a head of lettuce that was in the counter and threw it at him. "You guys stop that!" 

His father caught it and returned it to the counter. He gave Princess a nod and held out a hand, "Hey there, kid."

Princess shook it and gave him a warm smile. "Hello, sir."

Krolia jumped in, "Oh heavens! Just call him Eric!"

Princess snickered, "Looks like I've learned three names today."

Keith slapped his shoulder, "Forget them!"


	20. Americano Rainstorm

Keith tossed the plate of food down on the grimy, metal table. "Here."

Their "guest" from the brothel was named Peter. Keith was put in charge of keeping him fed and locked up. Lady told him that they were to hide him for a while until Lotor could take him back. Things were different with Lady. He seemed to be on edge around Princess and Keith knew it had to be because of Peter. 

 

_Princess wiped his mouth with a hand towel. "It _means_ that I didn't always look like a man." He clenched his eyes shut. "And dirty old guys love little girls."_

 

Keith had rolled over those words many times. What did he mean by "dirty old guys?" Was he talking about an uncle? A father? A brother? The men at the party knew him; they were even calling him "Ten." He assumed that must be some kind of nickname Princess had with them. Keith was hit with an unnerving thought: maybe Princess slept with them for money? Was that why he was always so uncomfortable around other men without Lady?

Peter gave the food an annoyed glare and started to pick at it. His hair fell over his shoulders and framed his face as he ate. Keith turned to leave, but was stopped. "Hey, you."

Keith spun around and clenched his fists, "What?"

Peter's face held the slightest hint of snark. "I heard from a little birdie that you have something of mine."

Keith raised an eyebrow at him and crossed his arms. "Excuse me?"

"Ten. I heard she was here." Peter gnawed on a piece of bread and glanced around the room.

Keith tilted his head in confusion, "I don't know who you're talking about, nor are you in any place to be asking questions."

"Oh?" Peter's sugary brown eyes glinted with playfulness. "Ten? My money-maker."

Keith stared at him for a long minute before he pieced it together. He knew Princess, but how? He rolled his eyes and turned to leave again. "Like I said, none of your business." Once again, he was stopped.

"I'm sure we can make some kind of deal."

Keith took another step.

"Look, all I want is to get out of here with my girl." Peter leaned back in his chair.

Keith took a deep breath to stay calm and met his eyes. Voice low and sharp, he spoke slowly. "First of all, pussy, it's  _he_ not  _she._ And two: fuck off before I break your nose."

Peter maintained the eye contact with his cocky stare. He crossed his arms and clicked his teeth. The whole room felt like it was filled with cotton. Bombs ticked away, ready to release Keith's anger in a single word. Peter added onto his already thin tolerance. "Do you even know what she's done?" He leaned forward and tightened his voice, "How many dicks have cum all over her caramel skin?"

"I  _suggest,"_ Keith's voice raised into a hateful intensity, "That you shut the fuck up right now." He wanted to cover his ears and scream at him.  _I don't want to know!_

"On her tongue?" Peter was relentless, getting off on Keith's anger. "Aw, has she blown you, too? I'm not surprised."

"Hey asshole?" Keith furrowed his brows even more and stepped down from the stairs. "I'm not fucking joking."

Peter shrugged, "Ten was always so enthusiastic about work."

Keith would've beat the shit out of him right there if the door hadn't opened. "Anger?"

Keith whipped his head around to the top of the stairs. "Princess, stay out there!"

He opened the door wide, "I saw you go in here, and I wanted to—"

"Speak of the devil." Peter watched him step onto the first stair.

Princess's face immediately dropped when he met the eyes of Peter. It looked like his entire body stopped working and his mind was shot. Keith hurried up the stairs to him as Peter called out a, "Hey baby, come on!"

Keith forced him out of the room and locked the door behind them. "Princess? Are you alright?"

With his hand clutching his chest, Princess spoke in a dark, shaky voice. "Why is he here?"

Keith's chest hurt and his head was screaming at him to do something. "We're holding him for Lotor. It's just temporary."

The light Princess usually held in his eyes had gone out, replaced by a tired, hateful fire. "Who approved it?"

"Lady." Keith placed a hand on his shoulder, but it was promptly shaken off.

"What did he tell you?" Princess puffed his chest and clenched his fists.

Keith shook his head, "Nothing. I just feed him, really."

Princess sighed and turned around to head down the hall. Keith followed with a panicked walk. "Are you alright? Princess?"

He shoved him away, "Just go away. I've gotta see White."

Keith hesitantly nodded and stepped away. The moonlight was overpowered by the artificial light of the hall, but it still cast the dark atmosphere that accompanied the stars. The warehouse had become colder the more he dug, but his curiosity was too powerful.  _It's too late to back out now._

Keith woke to voices. He rubbed his eyes and begged that it wasn't Princess again, rolling over and trying to return to sleep. But he bolted up when a crash shook the ceiling. It sounded like some glass had shattered. It couldn't have been big, but it happened so many times. Over and over. When Lady and Princess screamed at each other, Keith couldn't make out any words. They were too frantic and erratic.

Keith debated getting up and checking on them, but there was no way to do so without angering White. All he could do was wait and pray nothing happened.

Princess shouted something followed by another shatter of glass and more yelling. Keith jumped as a loud bang hit the wall and White's voice interrupted.  _This is bad._ Keith pushed the blankets off his legs, but stayed on the bed.  _I won't do anything unless I have to._

Finally, Keith could make out actual words. Princess's voice followed another crash, "Did you forget what he did to me?!"

"Did  _you_ forget what I've done for you?!" White hit the wall again. "You think I'll ruin business because you can't  _handle_ it?! Grow up!"

Stomping traveled from one side of the room to the other as more screaming and clattering shook the ceiling. "Don't touch me!" Princess's voice was nowhere near what it usually was when he put on his facade. This was different. He was hurt. Angry. So  _angry._ "Don't you dare touch me right now!"

"Are you gonna do this every time something doesn't go your way?!" White's words were full of annoyance. He believed his were right, and wasn't going to apologize. "Just throw a tantrum and push me away?!"

It was quiet for a split second before a loud, sharp slap cut through the air. The action shut down the argument, settling the building in tense silence. Keith's mouth hung open as he prayed that it wasn't what it sounded like. He begged to the heavens that Princess was okay. Keith leaned his elbows onto his knees and held his jaw closed as he listened. Other than soft footsteps, nothing was heard. He listened until minutes after the shouting stopped. Even then, he knew he wasn't sleeping that night.

Keith jumped when two soft knocks tapped his door. He stared at it in disbelief for a minute to make sure he had heard it right. Again, two pitiful knocks sounded. Keith immediately jumped up and yanked the door open.

Princess stood barefoot in a large white t-shirt. His eyes were irritated and reddened. They stared into each other's eyes for a minute to process the situation. Eventually, Princess took a step forward and let himself fall into Keith's chest. Keith wrapped his arms around his shoulders and cradled his head. He smelled like a mixture of different perfumes and tears.

Princess hugged him back, balling up Keith's shirt in his fists. He sniffled, "You wanted to know my story?" Wiping his cheeks, he pulled back a little to meet Keith's eyes.

"I'll tell you."


	21. A Million Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every one of these backstories are tied to an unreleased Melanie Martinez song. For Lance, it's A Million Men.

"When I was five years old," Lance looked down into his mug of hot chocolate, "my mother sold me into sex trafficking for some meth."

Keith's eyes filled with pity and dark revelations. They sat on his bedroom floor, Lance with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and hot chocolate Keith gave him. Lance continued, "I didn't understand at first. I was a child." His mind fell back in thought as he recollected his past.

"I was brought to a large, dirty basement with a lot of other girls. Some were children, but most were older. Eventually, all the girls around my age were gathered up and brought to some guy's house. He probably lived in a house worth a few million. There, we were kept in a room until someone would come and get us."

Lance's chest started to ache at the painful memories. He took a sip of the hot chocolate. Keith placed a hand on his leg in support, "It's okay now."

Lance nodded, "Yeah." He took a deep breath and continued. "They never came back the same way. When they left they were scared, but they returned broken." Lance inched forward a little to get closer to Anger. "On the third day, it was my turn. A man came and took me to a room with a large bed. It was actually really nice, to my surprise. They usually aren't like that.

"He locked me in there for a few minutes before a group of three men came in." Lance's eyes stung a little, "I finally understood what happened to the other girls. Why they stopped talking and looked so distant." Their voices were branded into his mind, playing over and over.

 _"Hold her down."_  
_"Shh, we're just gonna have some fun."_

Lance shook them away and brought himself back to reality. "I was with them for an hour, I think, but it felt like so much more. After you were broken in, they could start to sell you. Men would come to his house for parties and take girls for the night. This happened a couple times a week; and if we weren't being used at parties, the men who owned us had their way."

Lance checked on Keith to gauge his tolerance. He just intently stared back and waited to hear more. Lance averted his eyes, "I can stop if you want. You don't have to hear all of it. I know it's a lot."

Keith gently took his hand as he inched forward. It brought a sense of peace to his body. Anger was always so kind to him. "I'm alright. I want to hear it. Everything."

Lance stared into his crystal violet eyes for a moment before nodding and continuing the story. "I was kept in the mansion for six years. When I turned eleven—well, girls start to go through puberty, so it wasn't long until I would be able to get pregnant. One day, an older man with greying hair came and took me away from the mansion."

Lance shook his head in disappointment, "For a second, I thought I was getting out. Finally being saved." Hatred filled his bones, "But I wasn't. Not even close."

Keith sighed and closed his eyes, bringing Lance's hand up to his chest. After a few seconds, he opened them and waited for him to continue.

Lance averted his eyes, "I was brought to his brothel. The man's son, Peter, watched over the girls. He took me to the back, where a dance studio was. Other girls were there, but they were all older. The instructor saw me and got really upset, but Peter made her teach me." Shame washed over Lance, making him hang his head and keep his eyes on the wall.

"I was taught to pole dance, and I was only fed if I learned. After I was good enough, they showed me how to seduce men and put me on stage. I remember how strange it felt to wear almost nothing and perform for groups, but..." he trailed off in hesitation.

Lance gathered his courage and pushed himself to finish, "But after I did, Peter gave me food and was really nice. He even let me sleep in a comfy bed. I just...knew that...if I wanted to eat and make him happy, I had to be good." He cleared his cotton-stuffed throat. "I, uh—The next thing he taught me was what the other girls did. To...well, prostitution. I didn't want to; but when I refused, he..." Lance's mind fell into the past again.

_"See?! You can do it!" Peter yanked on his hair, "If you can do it with me, then you can do it with them."_

Lance shook his head and fought his stinging eyes. "He...raped me." Keith's hold on his hand tightened a little. "For a week, Peter made me sleep with him to...' _teach'_ me. He called it a 'thanks for all he's done for me.'" A tear finally fell down his cheek. He locked eyes with Keith and pleaded, "I was just a kid! I didn't—I didn't know that...that he—"

Keith pulled Lance's head to his chest, "I know, it's okay." He pet his hair, "It's not your fault."

Lance kept his head on Keith's shoulder as he kept going. "When I started sleeping with the men that came to the brothel, Peter continued to borrow me for the nights." It felt shameful to admit all the things he had done in his life—especially his time with Peter. "I just—I wanted to make him happy. I guess...that sex was all I knew and it always made people happy, so..."

Lance took a breath and licked his chapped lips, lifting his head back up. "After living there for four years, a strange man came in. He sat down in the front row and watched me dance, then went back to Peter's office. I got myself ready, because I knew what that meant."

"Lady?" Keith said what Lance couldn't admit.

Lance nodded, "White took me for a couple hours, then left. Normal day. But...then he came back after we closed. There was a boy with him that was my age, fifteen, and they were wearing these cool leather jackets. I had seen men wear some like theirs before, so I was curious and followed them as they went into Peter's office.

"White slammed his hands on his desk and talked to him as the other boy, Cinnamon, noticed me hiding back behind the corner of the hall. He gave me a smile and a wave, which I didn't reciprocate. After a few minutes of White harassing Peter, he left the office and found me. He told me that they were taking me away from there. I was still in my dance outfit, which was all I ever wore, so Cinnamon gave me a blanket and they took me here.

"I told them I was trans and White took it upon himself to pay for my transition and anything I needed. Things like clothes, medicine, a phone, food. After a while of staying in the orphanage, I..." Lance shut his eyes to avoid looking at Anger. "I wanted to thank him, so I visited his room. We had slept together at the brothel, so he accepted. Since then, he offered for me to join Voltron and kept me by his side—kept me  _safe._ "

A smile appeared on Lance's face, "He was really kind to me. If anyone ever recognized me and got too close or harassed me, he would... _put them in their place._ I was given the name 'Princess Charming' when I joined the gang and became known as White's boy." His smile faded as he finished, "And here we are."

Keith looked pained and full of hatred. "So you and Lady have been together for...?"

"Two years," Lance answered, "Since about a week after I came here."

Keith sighed and shook his head. He was still processing what he heard, and Lance understood. People took time to grasp his story, then started to steer clear of him. So he stopped telling it. Lance slowly stood, letting the blanket fall off his shoulders and setting the now empty mug on his end table. "Anyway, that's it. You wanted to know." He turned to leave, "I'll leave you now."

"Wait!" Keith grabbed his arm. "Don't go."

Lance gave him a confused look. "Why?  You don't have to be nice, it's okay, I get it."

Keith pulled him into a hug, "You're so ridiculous." He chuckled, "One: I don't know who you think I am, but my feelings haven't changed. I don't think you're disgusting. Not in the slightest." He pulled back and gave him a friendly smile. "And two: I don't want you returning to Lady after a fight like that. Just..." he looked around his room. "Just stay here for the night."

Lance followed his eyes, "Where would I sleep?"

"Uh, just—" Keith motioned to the bed, "You can sleep in the bed. I'll just...take my little couch." He looked at the small loveseat on the other side of his room.

Lance rolled his eyes and crawled into his bed, "You don't have to sleep on that tiny couch. I won't bite."

Keith rubbed the back of his neck and shifted his weight. "Ah, it's not really  _you_ that I'm afraid of."

Lance sighed in frustration, "White's not gonna do shit. Come on."

Keith set his jacket on the couch and hesitantly climbed into bed next to him. Lance rolled over to face him, "Do you...want me to...?"

Keith's eyes filled with pity. He shook his head and moved a few strands of hair out of Lance's face. "No, we're not gonna do that. Just sleep."

Lance took a deep breath and nodded, closing his eyes and letting himself find rest.


	22. Beauty Beneath Cotton

Keith woke up to Princess curled up in his chest. Since his legs were bare; he had laced them into Keith's. It was colder in his room, so he wasn't that surprised. Keith shifted his weight a little to try and unwrap himself from his hold, but stopped when he heard a faint jingle. Charming's dog tags had fallen out of his shirt as he slept, dropping to the sheets with a small clank. Keith stared at them for a moment, debating whether or not he should read them. It was a strict rule not to tell anyone else your name, especially to read each other's dog tags. In the end, Keith carefully picked them up and slid them back into the cover of his shirt. It was Princess's choice if he wanted to tell him his name.

Keith slid out of the blankets and tucked them up to Princess's body to keep him warm. He had been honored with the telling of Charming's story. It was a gift that he didn't deserve. As it replayed in his head, he turned back to stare at the sleeping body in the dim light. It lied gently cradled in a bed of worn sheets. Keith hadn't noticed before due to the night and stress, but Princess wasn't wearing any makeup. His eyelashes were natural—short and straight; his lips were actually a soft caffé latte, accompanied by a bedhead of unruly doppio curls. Without all the dramatic style choices, he was actually  _extremely_ attractive. Not in the way that TV portrays beauty, but how much his flaws complimented his perfections. Dry elbows and knees gave his skin personality while acne scars on his cheeks proved he was actually human. Keith never knew that someone could gain his attention enough to make him stop and stare just to process their beauty.

For the first time since joining Voltron, Keith understood why he was called Princess Charming.

Keith slipped his jacket on and headed down the hall, making sure to lock the door behind him in case White came looking. As he walked to the main room, he was pulled back by memories of his time before. Of how every action Princess did meant something much more. Of how much his words hid and showed off all at the same time. Keith didn't want to admit it, but he had fallen hard. It was already revealed that Princess liked him—in whatever way he knew how. Keith was wary with his declaration. No one in his life had ever shown Princess real love, only lust and obsession. It hurt, but Keith couldn't be naive and think that Princess knew what he was talking about.

When Keith walked into the room, he saw Cinnamon tending to White at one of the tables. Lady sat in a chair as a cotton ball was dabbed on his scraped knuckles. A thin line of red slid across his cheek, bringing about a disturbing, yet comforting revelation.  _Princess hit White._

Cinnamon gave him a smile when he noticed. "Hey Anger, how'd you sleep?"

"Fine." Keith gave White a snarky look. "What happened to you?"

"None of your business." White huffed and sat back in his chair. His face held a layer of annoyance, but was littered with traces of guilt. "Have you seen Charming today?"

Keith shook his head, "No. Is he okay?"

White didn't look convinced, "He's doing fine."

A stern voice pierced through the air, "Yes, I'm fine."

Keith spun around to see Princess walking into the room. He had helped himself to Keith's sparse closet, choosing jeans, boots, and a plain black t-shirt. They hung on him and looked strange. Keith had never seen him dressed in masculine clothing, but he looked relaxed. Comfortable. Princess stepped out from the hall and stared at White from the other side of the room.

Lady's eyes filled with softness as he lifted his free hand. "Charming."

Princess kept his intensity and inspected his every move with caution and crossed arms.

White offered his palm and pleaded, "Charming, my love, please come here."

Princess's expression didn't change as he took a deep breath and let his eyes close for a moment. When he opened them, they flickered over to Keith for a split second before he walked over to Lady and took his hand.

Keith was genuinely surprised at the sight. White leaned forward and kissed the back of his hand, cowering down to him. A bow of complete surrender. Princess used his other hand to play with White's hair as he gave himself away.

Keith could feel his heart break in that moment. It surprised him for a moment before he finally understood why it bothered him so much. Keith realized in that moment that he actually liked Princess. Truly and humbly. Had he missed his own mind telling him what he should have known way before? Something that should have been so important to him? However, his body had failed to understand the issue with his feelings: Princess was with White for a reason; and White was one hundred percent completely and utterly in love with him.

Keith turned away and went into the kitchen to retrieve a cup of coffee.  _Who am I kidding? Did I really think I stood any chance with him?_  He slammed his hands down in the counter as he broke his own heart. _You f_ _ool._


	23. In Love

Keith leaned back against the wall and stared at the worn bike in the pristine garage. He had the resources and tools to fix it now, but he didn't know how to start.

_Keith wiped his forehead with a towel and cursed the blazing heat. Pidge's car was finally fixed. "Thank god," he let out an exhausted breath._

_"Anger!" Princess jumped out of the orphanage with the brightest smile he'd ever seen and ran up to him. His fluffy pink fur coat shook with the motions as his heeled boots scraped the dirt. He skidded to a stop and grabbed his hand. "Anger, come with me." He giggle_ _d_ _and tugged on his arm. "I wanna show you something."_

_Keith let himself be pulled into the garage, then spun around. Princess held out a dramatic arm to frame the beat up bike set apart from the expensive cars. "Ta da!"_

_Keith's heart warmed. It was his bike. A gentle smile painted his cheeks as his eyes softened. "What's this?"_

_"Well," Princess kicked out his foot and held his arms behind his back as he drifted around it. "You showed me this bike and told me about it, but you never get to work on it." He flashed a wide smile and swung his leg over to sit on it. His slim fingers wrapped around the handlebars. "So I brought it here so you can!"_

Keith tossed the wrench he had in his hand back on the tool box and returned his jacket to his shoulders. He couldn't start just yet. Not yet.

The days following White and Princess's fight were spent like they usually were. They went back to their normal, overbearingly affectionate selves. And Keith  _hated_ it. Princess continued to treat him like his best friend, but it was complicated. Nothing was simple anymore.

Keith let out a sharp groan and shoved his fist into the concrete wall. He hated himself the most for letting his emotions feel for someone. If he had just left it alone, none of this would have happened. He wouldn't be crying in the still garage with bloody fists. He wouldn't be this  _broken-hearted._  
  


"Hey Charming?" Cinnamon placed a hand on his shoulder.

Lance stopped walking and turned to face him with his signature smile, "Hey! What's up?"

"Um," Cinnamon averted his eyes and fumbled with his fingers. "I just wanted to know if you'd noticed anything strange with Anger."

"Strange?" Lance tilted his head and furrowed his brows. "How so?"

Cinnamon took a deep breath and sighed, "Look, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that you two are different." He locked eyes with him. "What happened?"

Lance's joy slowly faded into annoyance, "I don't know what you're talking about. Anger and I are close, but I haven't noticed anything. Is he okay? Did something happen to him?"

"Hmm," Cinnamon dropped his frustration and let his face fill with pity. "Charming...are you really that dense?"

Lance was confused.  _What is he talking about? Is something wrong with Keith?_ He shrugged, "I guess so?"

Cinnamon checked the halls to make sure they were alone. After the coast was clear, he stared at the floor for a moment before meeting his eyes. "Charming...you know that Anger's, like, in love with you, right?"

Lance's heart stopped. "What?"

"Anger, he..." Cinnamon shook off his hesitation. "Anger is so in love with you, it's annoying me."

Lance's eyes fell to the carpet along with his voice, "How do you know?" That couldn't be right. Could it?

Cinnamon gulped and chewed on the inside of his cheek. "He's in the garage right now." He placed his hand on his shoulder, "I think you might want to talk to him."

"Why?" Lance could feel his anxiety creep up his throat and sew his teeth together with cotton.

"Because  _you_ love  _him._ However you want to label it." Cinnamon took his hand back and lowered his voice. "He needs you right now. In a way I can't be."

It took a moment for the words to strike a chord in his mind.  _Wait!_ Lance gave Cinnamon wide eyes, which he nodded in response to. As soon as he got confirmation, Lance took off in the direction of the garage.  _Ugh, I'm such an idiot!_ He darted around corners and leaped down stairs, his mind filled with only one thought.

_I have to get to Keith._

_Before he hurts himself._


	24. Trust Issues

Keith hesitantly opened the rotting door and stepped into his house. The sound of pans in the kitchen brought back a warmth he missed. "Dad?" He stayed in the doorway and waited.

"Keith?" His father appeared from the living room. A smile painted his cheeks as he walked up to him with his arms outstretched. "My son." He pulls him into a hug.

Keith didn't hug him back; his arms felt too weak. "Dad?"

"What are you doing back?" He looked down at him with confused eyes.

Keith let himself fall into his chest as he gave in to the weariness. He took in a giant breath of his father's clothes. "I missed you guys."

"Keith? Is that you?" Krolia called to him from the kitchen.

His father waited to let him respond. When he didn't, he turned to the doorway. "Yeah, he's here!"

Krolia hurried out to yank him into a hug. "My baby! You're home!"

Keith sighed, "Yeah, I'm home."

She pulled away and used an arm to guide him into the kitchen. "Stay for dinner! You must be hungry."

Keith ate with his parents as he once had. They sat in the living room watching whatever sitcom was on that night, debating various comedic references and making fun of the dramatics of it all. After dinner, Keith retrieved two beers from the fridge and sat with his dad in the living room. Krolia took it upon herself to clean up the kitchen.

Keith sat on the floor and hugged his knees. It felt nice there. He felt at home. No matter where he went or how much of a disappointment he was, they always welcomed him back with open arms. They might not have been the best at parenting, but they excelled at making Keith feel wanted. He took a small sip of his beer, "Hey Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Can I...ask you something?"

He chuckled a little and sat back into the couch cushions. "Of course, son. Go ahead."

Keith took a deep breath and pushed all his anxiety out the window. "Do you remember that guy I brought over last time I was here?"

"The fag?"

Keith gave him an amused smile, "You can't use that word, it's really offensive."

"Sorry," he took a drink and waited for the question. "What about him?"

Keith looked down at his feet and tapped his nails on the glass bottle. "What did you think of him?"

"Hm?" His father's attitude finally turned serious. "What did I think of him? Well he's really flamboyant, no?"

A pained smile appeared on his face, "Yeah, he is."

He watched Keith's movements as he gauged the route of the conversation. "Why do you ask?"

"I..." Keith set his nearly untouched beer on the coffee table and curled up in his arms. "I think I like him."

"Do you?" He set his bottle down and moved closer to him. "I'm guessing that's not all?"

Keith shook his head, "No. He's been through a lot and I don't think he likes me like I do him. And he's kind of in a relationship?"

"Kind of?"

Keith gave him a hesitant nod, "Kind of."

His father reached down to rub circles in his back, "So what's your real question, boy?"

Princess's face and voice replayed all his laughs and snarky comments over and over. No matter how many times he saw the same scene play out, he never got tired of seeing him. "What am I supposed to do?"

The room was silent for a few moments. Eventually, his dad patted his back and gave him a gentle side-hug. "Keith...love is complicated. Nothing is ever certain. And you'll be left wondering what they're doing or how they feel. You'll always have a worry deep in your bones."

Keith moved to the couch and wrapped his arms around his father's chest. "Then how do you do it?" He sniffled, "How am I supposed to handle it like you and Mom do?"

His father chuckled and pet his hair, "Trust." He shrugged, "That's all you can do. So Keith," he lifted his chin to lock their eyes, "You need to have a serious conversation with yourself before confronting him." He pulled back and returned to his hard exterior. "You may love this boy, but do you  _trust_ him?"

Keith's breath became shaky and scared. He held onto his father's forearms in a panic, "What if I don't?"

A gentle smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. His eyes contained their loving, fatherly glow. He took a breath and raised one eyebrow. "Then...canyou  _learn_  trust him?"


	25. Lovers

Keith unlocked his door with an exasperated sigh. The moon had already appeared high in the sky by the time he got back to the warehouse. The words his father said echoed in his mind.  _Can I trust Princess?_ He took a moment to think before opening the door.  _Maybe...if..._

Keith took a breath and entered his room, locking the door behind him. When he turned around, he jumped as he saw a dark silhouette in the moonlight. After a second to calm, he flipped on the light with a tired smile. "What are you doing here?"

Princess turned to look at him, bringing his fingers away from his desk. Unlike the previous nights, he was dressed in jeans and a green jacket; and once again, they looked strange on his usually feminine body. He relaxed and puffed his chest, "I just...where did you go?"

Keith tossed his keys onto his desk and stepped back. "I went by my house to see my parents."

"Oh," Princess hesitantly lowered himself to sit on the floor, resting his back against the bed frame.

Keith sat down next to him with a tired grunt and rested his head back onto the mattress. Their bodies were wrapped in a tense silence that brought down anxiety on their shoulders. As uncomfortable as it was, they couldn't seem to find the right words. Keith decided it was best to just dive in. They've already come this far, haven't they?

"What's your name?" Keith stared up at the cloudy cream ceiling.

Charming leaned his head back against the bed and closed his eyes. "Princess Charming."

Keith shook his head, "No, your real name."

Princess sighed, "You know the rules."

Keith scoffed, "fuck the rules." He picked his head up to lean over and let his lips brush Princess's cheek. His breath nipped at his ear, "My name's—"

Princess quickly covered his mouth to stop him. "Red, Please don't."

Keith pulled his head back a little, letting Charming's hand fall to the floor. "Why do you call me that?"

Princess was a gentle hurricane among a storm of even bigger problems. His hair twirled into unruly mocha curls; his dusky blue eyes stared up through fans of elegant lashes. His lips parted and gave a cheeky laugh. "Because you have a red coat you never wear."

"That's not what I mean." Keith raised an eyebrow at him. "Why don't you call me Anger like everyone else?"

Princess hesitated for a moment before leaning in close to brush their lips together. He quietly swung his leg over and maneuvered his way onto Keith's lap. His callused hands slid up Keith's neck and into his hair. Hot, shallow breaths tickled his cheeks. "Because I care about you. You're different."

"You like me?" Keith gazed up at him with loving crystal violet eyes.

Princess let out a faint giggle and nodded, "Yeah, I think I do."

Keith massaged his palms up Princess's thighs, slowly inching toward his hips and back down to his knees. "Then let me see."

Charming sighed and leaned back to sit on Keith's legs. He averted his gaze and took a moment to think. It was a troubling request. After a silent minute, his hands slowly raised up to his chest. His slim fingers reached under his grey shirt and tugged up on the chain around his neck. He slipped the necklace over his head and held the dog tags up for him.

Keith kept their eyes locked as he lifted them up out of the air. He waited for a second, then looked down to read the tags.

_Lance McClain "Princess Charming"_   
_Female tM_   
_07/28_   
_Type A_

Keith's mouth curved up in a loving smile. He lifted his head and opened his mouth, but Princess quickly put a hand over it. "Please don't say it." He shook his head, "Not yet."

Keith took his hand off his mouth and nodded. "Okay." He fidgeted with his leather jacket and tugged his own tags out to hand them over. "I know you already know my na-!"

Charming snatched them and immediately read the engraved words, fingertips running over the canyons and ridges. His eyes brightened and his lips parted in an attractive smile as he looked up to meet his gaze. "Keith."

A flutter of butterflies danced in his stomach and up to his lungs. He leaned forward and nuzzled his head into the crook of his neck. "Say it again."

Princess chuckled and repeated it in the same sweet tone. "Keith."

Keith took a deep breath of Princess's ocean skin and kissed his neck. "Say it again."

"Keith," Princess giggled and tried to lean away from him. "We can't."

Keith kept his lips on his neck, "Please say my name."

Charming cupped his cheeks and lifted Keith's face away from his skin. He took his time to lean into a slow, deep kiss. Gentle and methodical. Their lips yearned for each other and couldn't bear it. Princess pulled back and rested his forehead on Keith's.

"Don't go back to him." Keith's throat tightened as his chest ached.

Charming shook his head and spoke in a broken whisper. "I have to." He squeezed his eyes shut. "It's how things are."

"Fuck the rules." Keith cursed everything. "You don't love him. You're a toy." He tried to hold back his anger, but it spilled out of his lips. "Every night I have to lie in bed and think about what he's doing to you and how much I wish you were safe with me. It's so fucked up."

Princess shook his head, "White's my partner."

"Oh fuck him." Keith scoffed and averted his eyes. "He's a coward and a rapist."

Princess cowered and averted his gaze, "It didn't start like that."

"Yes it did!" Keith could feel his chest fill with boiling hatred. "He took advantage of you. He's older and knew better. Lady's a fucking pervert."

Charming's eyes fell to the dirty carpet, "He's not always bad. White's a good leader; and he's not mean to me."

"But just because he claimed you, you're a prisoner for life?"

"Red, it's not like that." Princess held his cheeks and stared into his eyes. "And do you realize what would happen if he found out we were together? He'd kill you!"

Keith shook his head and brought his hands to Princess's waist. "I can handle a beat down if it means you don't ever have to go to his room again."

Princess sighed and pulled his hands back. He averted his gaze to cower as he stayed silent.

Keith wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him back to his chest. He couldn't fight the overwhelming urge to touch him, to hug him, to feel his warmth, and hear his heart beat. Differently. As lovers. "Can I say your name? Just once?"

Princess slowly and gently hugged his neck and pet his hair. "Okay."

Keith looked up to meet his eyes and studied his face. He wanted to engrave this moment into his brain. He wanted to stop associating this face with "Princess" and start seeing him as a real person. Keith leaned forward to give him a slow kiss, then pulled back an inch. "I trust you, Lance."


	26. Angel

Lance handed Keith a black bulletproof vest, "Wear this over your black clothes."

Keith took it and looked around at the others. Everyone was getting dressed up in black shirts and pants with vests and guns. He tightened the straps and sighed, "I thought you didn't like to kill people."

"None of us do." Lance fluffed his hair with worn eyes and an exhausted frown.

"How come we aren't wearing our regular clothes like you guys did when we met?"

Lance crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "Because our job entails keeping our reputation up. The guy we're hitting today is also in a gang, which means his gang buddies are gonna back him up." He opened his eyes and stared at the ground with a troubled expression. "There's gonna be a shootout, and it's probably gonna get ugly."

"Wait, Prin—"

"Charming!" White's smooth voice cut into their bubble. He extended a hand and a sweet smile, "Come here, baby."

Lance put on his cheery persona and skipped over to White, jumping up so he could carry him in his arms. Keith caught himself glaring at them and had to look away and take a breath.  _I trust Lance._ A smile slowly spread across his lips.  _Lance._ He loved the name. It brought a warmth to his chest and brightness to his mind.

"Hey Anger, you ready?" Cinnamon tapped his shoulder, gaining his attention.

Keith nodded, "Yeah," he checked the pistols on his hips, "I'm good."

Cinnamon gave him a somber smile and turned to head out to the car.

Keith looked over at Lance and White, falling victim to his possessive nature. Lance giggled with a bright smile as Lady kissed his neck. When they were in the van, they continued their obsessive affection. Keith hated it. More that anything else. Seeing Lance smile and laugh like that with someone other than him was troubling—even if it was only a show. It was hard to get over the fact that they had a history. Lance may not love him, but White worshiped Lance. It was obvious. They had been like that for two years, it wasn't going to be easy for them to split. Keith could only hope for the best.

"We're here." Gigabyte had her arms crossed and head down. She had become a lot less approachable lately. She didn't like Keith, everyone knew that, but it was more than him.

White gave Lance a long kiss, then let him off his lap. "Alright, let's go." He checked his own guns, "You guys know what to do. And Anger—"

Keith gave him an annoyed look.

"Stay by Cinnamon and don't get yourself killed."

Keith looked over at Cinnamon and got ready to go. They stepped out from the van, keeping their guns holstered. Hopefully, this would be over quickly and easily; but Keith could tell from the way everyone was acting that that wasn't possible. They were on the defensive.

White took the lead, keeping Lance protected behind him. Gigabyte held her fun behind her head and walked off to the left of the group. Cinnamon stayed behind Lance and Keith was to the right. They had stopped at a crumbling concrete building. Graffiti freckled the walls, lit up by the afternoon sun. It was definitely a hideout, but Keith couldn't tell what gang they had visited.

White stopped the group ten feet away from the building, locking eyes with a man in leather. He had a black cowboy hat and a scar on his top lip. Two more men walked up beside him, armed with AKs. The first guy threw his cigarette down and put a hand above the gun on his hip. "What are you doing here, White?"

Lady moved Lance further behind him, "We just want Sean, Frank. Send him out."

Who Keith assumed was Frank clicked his teeth and shook his head. "You can't have my son, White. How about we end this like civil groups?" It was a question, but more of a command.

When Keith noticed Lance tense up at the name  _Sean,_ he quickly pieced together exactly why they were there.  _Is White crazy?! He's gonna get the team killed over a guy that harassed his playboy?!_

White sighed and crossed his arms, "What do you suggest, Frank?"

Frank held a hand out and the man next to him set a piece of paper in his hand. White started walking forward and Frank met him in the middle. Keith listened carefully, but it was hard to hear. What he  _did_ catch was that Frank was offering money.

Keith took this chance to grab Lance's arm and whispered into his ear. "What is going on right now?!"

Lance pulled his arm away and whispered back, "Just get ready to defend yourself. Find somewhere close to take cover."

"What?! Is White  _not_ gonna take the offer?!"

Lance's winged eyes looked down to the dirt. He slowly shook his head, "Not this time. Not like this."

White scoffed and turned back around to the team. In one swift motion, he unholstered his gun and shot up in the air. Keith dove over to a large concrete slab and took cover as everyone else found a place of their own. Everything seemed to morph into slow motion as the sounds flattened to a ring. Bullets nicked the stone and buried into the ground beside him. Keith had never been in a shootout. He had never killed anybody either. Looking over at Lance's face as he shot at the men was frightening. He furrowed his brows and white-knuckled his pistol as his eyes filled with an intense fire. Whatever he was seeing through them was enough to scare the hell out of him.

As the world sped back up and his hearing returned, Keith turned around to aim over the concrete. In barely a second, he chose a man hiding behind the cover of the right wall of the building. He aimed and locked onto him. He was right there. Nothing was covering his view. But Keith couldn't pull the trigger. The rest of the gang had no problem injuring or even  _killing_ another person.

Keith wasn't like them. At least...not yet. Jaw clenched, he pulled his gun back. It was a mistake. A  _big_ mistake.

As soon as Keith took his aim off the man, he shot at the block next to him. Keith's heart stopped as a painful yelp pierced his ears. Lance dropped his gun and fell to his hands and knees. Blood pooled down his vest as he held a hand to it. As quickly as he fell, he forced his back into the concrete and covered his head.

"Princess!" Keith's eyes went wide as he panicked.

Lance looked up at him and shook his head. "Charming!" White jumped to his side and looked over his body. That's when Keith saw the extent of his injury. Lance's left palm was shattered. Two shots: one to his thumb and one under his pinky finger. The pain must not have hit him yet, as he wasn't acting like he was in serious pain. White's attitude shifted into a hurricane of pure rage. He kissed Lance's head and brought him to his chest. Lance used his right arm to wrap it around his neck, finally being hit with the pain in his hand.

Keith got that feeling again. The same one he did when Lady bowed down to Lance after their fight. When all of the world was stripped away, all that was left was their raw emotions. That's when Keith could see the truth. Lance cling to White like he was the first drop of rain in a desert. He wrapped himself up in his arms as if he was a fire of calm in the middle of a blizzard. They were in love, in whatever fucked up way they chose. As much as Keith wanted to ignore it, the feeling was still there. He didn't trust Lance just yet. He was trying. He was trying  _so hard._ But he couldn't say that he one hundred percent trusted everything he said. It made Keith wonder if these moments would ever fade, because it's a real possibility that they won't.

"Anger!" White brought him out of his daze with a shout full of hate. "Take Charming to the van! I'm getting this bastard."

"Affirmative!" Keith leaped over to their side and put his gun away. When Lady stood and went toward the building, Keith immediately yanked his gun back out and did not hesitate this time. He shot a few times at the man, bringing him to the ground. When he stopped moving, Keith returned to Lance and picked him up bridal-style. "Come on, let's get you to safety."

Lance wheezed and groaned as Keith set him down across the seats. "Anger! It hurts!"

"I know, I know." Keith gently took Lance's hand away from his chest and panicked. The hand was  _crushed._ He couldn't just press on it,  _there was nothing to press on._ "Um, everything's fine. You're gonna be okay." Keith retrieved the medical kit they had in the car and searched for something,  _anything._ After a moment, an idea hit him. He stood up and yanked his belt off, wrapping it around Lance's wrist. "Okay, this might hurt a little, but it's gotta be tight."

"Wait, but—Ah!"

Keith tugged on the belt hard and secured it to keep it there.  _That should keep the bleeding down._ He ignored the blood on his hands and retrieved gauze wraps from the kit. With the minimal medical training he had, he wrapped up Lance's hand as quickly as he could. Lance screamed and writhed in pain, but Keith couldn't stop or he would bleed too much. "Okay! I'm done!"

Tears streaked Lance's cheeks as he whimpered out a pitiful, "Ow..."

The car door opened and Gigabyte jumped in. "How is he?!" She braced herself with the back of the seat and looked down at him. "What happened?!"

Keith held up a hand between her and Lance to set a barrier. "He was shot in the hand. I've taken care of it, but he's gonna need to go to the hospital."

Gigabyte gave him a condescending look, "How the fuck do you think we're gonna explain  _this_ to a hospital?"

Keith furrowed his brows, "Well, what the fuck did you guys think was gonna happen if someone got shot?!"

Cinnamon jumped in the driver's seat, "Would you two shut the hell up?! White's got it covered. He'll be here soon, so  _sit down_!"

Keith and Gigabyte immediately followed his orders. He started the car and drove around the building. White stepped in with faint blood splatters on his vest and pants. He shoved Keith out of the way and sat down, placing Lance's head in his lap.

Lance opened his reddened eyes and stared up at him, "White, it hurts."

Lady's face tensed up in heartbreak, "I'm so sorry, baby." He took his free hand and let him squeeze it.

Keith ignored their interaction for once and dropped his head into his hands. This was his fault. If he had just shot the guy, then Lance wouldn't have to worry about losing his hand.

_This is all my fault._


	27. Lose a Lover

Everyone stared at the gang as they waited. White knew a few doctors that owed him favors, so Lance was taken in to the hospital. Keith was supposed to be the one to run back to the orphanage, but Cinnamon offered instead. He retrieved their leather jackets so they all had the Voltron patch. Keith had his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, trying to ignore the little girl staring at him. Gigabyte and Cinnamon sat in the chairs without speaking.

"Anger?" Gigabyte gave him a pitiful look, which was unlike her.

Keith didn't answer, but met her eyes.

"Do you wanna sit down?" She pat the chair next to her. "You've been standing the whole time."

Keith sighed and looked away. The last thing he wanted to do was sit down. He was beyond worried about Lance. By the way it looked in the van, it was possible he could lose it. And there would be no one to blame but Keith.

White's heavy boots exited the hall and trudged over to the group. He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. "Charming, uh..." he met their worried stares, "Charming is awake and asked to see you guys one by one."

They all let out sighs of relief. Keith stepped forward, "Who goes first?"

White looked to his side, "Gigabyte." He motioned for her to follow and disappeared down the halls.

When she returned, Cinnamon was sent down. Then finally, after hours of waiting, it was Keith's turn. White walked him to the room, then let them be. He shut the door behind him and cowered toward the bed.

Lance was sitting up and staring down at his bandaged hand. When he heard the door shut, his head shot up. Keith stopped in his tracks and locked eyes with him. They stared at each other in silence. Ever so slowly, Lance's eyes started to shimmer. "Red..."

Keith's chest was shot and crumbled. He wasn't sure if he should run or drop to his knees. This boy sitting in the hospital bed in front of him with a shattered hand was only seventeen. He had never been to school or had parents or been to a park or even had one day to just be a person. Lance was a pitifully broken seventeen year old  _kid_ that got caught up in a gang. The saddest part was that he didn't know any better.

"Red...?" Lance's voice became shaky and tight. "Keith?"

"I'm so sorry." Keith hung his head in shame.

"What...for?"

Keith took a long breath and rubbed his eyes, "I couldn't shoot him. I had a clear shot, but I couldn't do it. After I didn't, he shot your hand. I'm—I'm so sorry!"

"Hey," Lance sat up on his knees. "Keith, come here." Keith raised his head and looked into his eyes. The ocean that swam in his irises waved a look of surrender and pleading. "Keith," he gulped, "please come here."

Keith inched his way up to the bed and took Lance's outstretched hand. As soon as he got a grip, Lance yanked him down to his level and wrapped an arm around his neck. Their lips crashed together like the waves that housed Lance's eyes. Keith was surprised and couldn't react.  _Lance is kissing me. Why?_

Lance gently let up his hold and pulled away, keeping their faces close as he whispered. "Please hold me."

Just as Lady had, Keith bowed down to him. An act of  _complete_ surrender. He wrapped his arms around Lance's body and brought them back together. Lowering him down to the pillow, Keith cradled his head and deepened the kiss. He wanted to feel him and warm his shaking body.

But...something needed to be said.

Keith pulled back and braced himself with his arms. "Lance..." he licked his chapped lips out of habit, "Lance, I need to know something."

Lance gave him a concerned look, but nodded. "What?"

"I...need you to..." Keith wasn't sure if he even wanted to know the answer. "I need you to be completely honest with me."

Lance nodded again and placed his right hand on Keith's cheek. "Okay."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

Keith took a deep breath and leaned into his touch. "Lance..." he stared into his powerful eyes, "Are you in love with Lady?"

Keith wished for him to immediately laugh and shake his head. Maybe he could kiss him again and tell him he only yearns for him.

But he didn't.

"I..." Lance averted his gaze. "I don't know." He brought his hand down to cover his face. "Please don't yell at me."

Keith's heart broke—for both himself and Lance's fear. He lifted himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. "Lance...you've gotta figure out what you want."

"I know," he whimpered.

Keith took in a long frustrated breath and looked over at his hidden face. "I love you, you know that, right?"

Lance yanked his hand away from his face and locked his wide eyes on Keith's. He stammered and kept his jaw dropped as he waited for the words that would never come.

Keith nodded, "I love you, Lance. And I want to be with you. But..." he stood and adjusted his jacket, "But I'm not gonna be your mistress." Keith swallowed the tears that fought his eyes as he finished what needed to be said. "I am so  _completely_ and  _helplessly_ in love with you. And so is that pervert."

Keith shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "If you want to be with me, then you can't be hung up on him. I am not you. I don't know what you feel for him or what happens when I'm not looking. Go talk to someone and figure your shit out.

But Lance...if you choose to be with me," Keith walked to the door and stopped to look back at him, "Then I'll welcome you with open arms and blind trust."


	28. Heartbeats

Lance returned from the hospital a few days later. Other than occasional glances, he never spoke to Keith. The words he said kept replaying in his mind, stuck on repeat and giving off the same painful stab they did the first time.

_"You need to figure your shit out."_

_"I love you, Lance."_

There was just...one thing he had to do. He had wanted it for a long time, but he respected Keith's morals. And now, with the conversation they had in the hospital, he was even more unsure. It was a stupidly selfish thing to ask, and Lance knew it. But...it  _was_ all he knew.

He took a deep breath and rung two soft taps on Keith's door. He did it every time he came, so Keith would be perfectly aware of who it was. Lance didn't know  _why_ he did. Maybe it was just a natural thing since everybody in the gang had been through extreme trauma one way or another. Maybe it was because he cared for Gigabyte. She had been through so much violence, so she had distinct triggers. Loud doors was one.

Keith's face immediately hardened when he opened the door. He sighed and leaned against the doorframe. "What do you want?"

Lance opened his mouth, but quickly shut it to let himself gather his thoughts. The bandages on his hand were itchy and uncomfortable, but his hand was worse. He couldn't use it and sometimes he would hit it on walls or door frames, but he was lucky they didn't have to take it. He would probably never regain full use of his hand, but he wasn't mad. Especially not at Keith. Not at the man who loved him more than anyone ever had.

Keith just stared at him until he was ready to talk. He was always considerate. It was one thing that he liked. Lance took a quick breath and looked up at him through his eyelashes. "Okay, I know this is strange and—and selfish, and just totally out of line, but...I...just..." he fiddled with his hand.

Keith laughed in disbelief and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please just—!" He cut himself off. "You really are a kid, aren't you?"

Lance hung his head, "Yeah, I guess so..." He averted his stare, "Do you...not like kids?"

Keith rolled his eyes and let out an exhausted breath, "Princess, why are you here? It's three a.m."

"Well," Lance tapped his toes on the carpet and fiddled with White's oversized white t-shirt he wore. It was a habit from when White was there. Over time, it was all he had to sleep in. "White...is gone tonight at the meeting and I...don't..."

Keith furrowed his brows and glared at White's clothes, "Get in. You look terrible in that."

Lance looked down at his shirt and hesitantly stepped into his room. He watched Keith with a raised eyebrow as he went to his closet and retrieved a black sweater. "Here," he grabbed the hem of Lance's sleep shirt but stopped. "Uh, sorry."

Lance stopped his hands, "Wait, I can't—uh," He motioned to his bandages, "It's...hard to do it myself with this hand."

Their bodies drifted closer in the artificial light from Keith's dusty lamp. Lance could feel his face heat up as his blood switched from cold to scalding. He looked up with longing eyes. Keith was troubled, and his fingers trembled as he lifted Lance's shirt up and over his head, leaving him in only black lace underwear.

Keith gave a frustrated gasp, "Is this really all you ever wear?"

Lance's face went even redder. "I just...it's what White buys me."

Keith looked around the room to avoid staring. "Princess, what do you want?"

Lance bit his lip and swallowed his anxiety as he slowly lifted his hand and placed it on Keith's chest. "Just..." He inched his fingers up to trace his collarbone. "Can I just..."

Keith's face scrunched up in distress. "Why? Why now?"

Lance met his eyes, "Because I like you." His chest convulsed as he gathered up all the strength he had. "And I want to try."

That answer seemed to be the right one, because Keith immediately yanked Lance's thighs up and around him, lying him down on his bed and bringing their lips together. Lance tugged on his shirt, which he threw to the floor in response. He took care to keep Lance's injured hand comfortable and safe as he pulled his body close.

Keith took his time in pulling off Lance's clothes. He stroked his legs and kissed his stomach as he slid his panties down and off his feet. Sitting on his knees between Lance's legs, he crawled up his stomach leaving a soft kiss with each inch. Lance suddenly felt embarrassed about being naked in front of another person. It was strange, because he couldn't remember the last time he was hesitant to show someone his body. His face grew hot and his heart went crazy as Keith licked up his jaw and brought their lips together.

Keith kissed slowly. Every move of his lips was deliberate and coordinated. There was no messiness in his actions. Lance's voice caught in his throat, catching with a tiny moan. Keith chuckled into his neck, "Doin' okay?"

Lance's chest felt like it was going to burst. His hands shook and his mind couldn't wrap around what was happening just yet. He nodded, "Yeah."

"Okay," Keith left one last kiss on his shoulder and pushed himself up. He towered above Lance, but it was never scary. "Just tell me if you need to stop." He placed a hand on his cheek, "I'll be good to you."

A blushing smile appeared on his cheeks. He nodded, "I'm okay. Keep going."

Keith gave him a gentle smile and nodded. After one more kiss on his lips, he slid down toward Lance's hips. His worn hands lifted his legs to drape them over his shoulders. Lance quickly pushed himself up on his elbows and stared down in shock. "Wait!"

Keith gave him a concerned look, "Do you need me to stop?"

"No, I just..." Lance gulped, "Um, I just, you don't have to do that."

Keith blinked in confusion for a second, then glanced down at Lance's hips. "Oh. You don't like it?"

"I haven't, um," Lance shook his head. "No one's ever done that to me." He panicked a little, "And I mean, you're gay and I'm trans and I don't... really... have..."

The corners of Keith's mouth curved up as his eyes flashed with mischief. "I know. I'm literally inches away from your cunt. Let me do it. It'll feel good."

Lance caught his breath, but he nodded, "Okay. Just...don't go in." He lied back to hide his face.

"Of course." Keith's breath warmed his skin; his kisses brought a feeling of safety. Lance held his hands tightly over his mouth as Keith's tongue trailed up his skin. It was embarrassing and invasive. Way past any boundary crossed before. But even though it was uncomfortable, it wasn't a  _bad_ uncomfortable. Physically, it was amazing. Keith was absolutely  _skilled_  at giving blowjobs, and Lance didn't care about the embarrassment of it because it felt so damn good.

Lance felt a lightning bolt shoot up his spine and jerk his legs. "Keith!" He took hold of Keith's hair. "Stop, I'm close!"

Keith gradually took his mouth off Lance's dick and started removing his sweatpants. Lance gasped for breath as he fought through the frustration of not being satisfied. He had even forgotten about his hand for a while. Keith reached up to the bedside table. "Still okay?"

"Mm." Lance nodded. "Mm-hmm."

Keith held himself above him and stroked his cheek. "What are you okay with?" He left a small kiss on his forehead. "Anything you can't do?"

Lance placed his hand on top of Keith's and kissed his palm. That spike of nervousness shot him again and his heart took the hit. "Cunt is fine."

Keith nodded and continued what he was doing. Lance pushed himself up on his elbows out of curiosity and rested his legs on Keith's thighs. "Oh," he stopped him from opening a condom wrapper, "Are you clean?"

Keith nodded, "Yeah?"

Lance snatched the condom from his hand and tossed it to the floor. "You don't need that then."

"But what if you—!"

Lance shook his head, "Can't happen to me." He lied back down again, "I'm clean, too, by the way."

"Alright." Keith let out a sexy chuckle and leaned back down to kiss his lips. Again, he was slow and gentle. "You ready?"

Lance bit his lip and wrapped his arms around Keith's shoulders, resting his bandaged hand safely on his back. With a kiss behind the ear, Keith started to enter. He was unhurried, going only an inch, then retreating, until he could easily slip inside. As he reached all the way inside, he hit a sensitive spot and caused a moan to escape from Lance's lips. Lance wasn't used to Keith's tender intimacy. He kept every movement to a minimum, opting instead to focus on going deep and massaging all the right spots. It was frustrating for Lance, who had only ever known rough and painful.

"Keith," Lance whined and held him tighter, "Go faster." He kissed his cheek, adding, "And harder."

"No," Keith kissed his lips a little rougher, but still gentle.

"Why not?" Lance furrowed his brows and pushed his head into the pillow.

Keith's playful crystal violet eyes gave him a look of half-hidden pity. "You've only ever been fucked. You've never actually slept  _with_ someone." Keith rubbed Lance's thighs, directing them to lock ankles around his waist. "I'll take care of you, Lance."

A new kind of embarrassment turned his cheeks a deep rose. He stared up at him with wide eyes, "Say that again."

"Say what?"

"My name." Lance kissed his lips, following the same relaxed pace Keith had set. "Say it again."

Keith's face immediately lit up with a bubblegum blush. He leaned down close to his ear and started thrusting with more pressure. "Lance." He nipped at his ear, "Lance, you're so beautiful."

For the first time in Lance's life, sex didn't hurt a bit. Keith didn't cause any pain at all. He was so gentle and loving, caring for his body like he was a precious jewel. As if he was an angel that had known nothing but purity his whole life.

Keith pulled him up onto his lap, finally allowing him to set his own pace. But Lance kept up the slow and deep thrusts he had learned to love in mere minutes.  _To be honest, I didn't expect anything like this._ Lance had expected it to be like every other man that had touched him, but it wasn't. Nowhere close.

Lance felt like a new person, like it was his first time. He had never felt like this with White. _It was just as Keith had said: he was a toy._ Lance was still a kid. A kid that never  _got_ to be a kid. So he was still figuring everything out, but there was one thing he knew for sure.

He didn't have to fake anything that night.


	29. Anger's Peace

Keith sat on the edge of his bed and stared back at Lance as he slept soundly in the morning light. He was wrapped up in his black sweater and worn blankets. All the memories of the night before flooded back into his mind, bringing the shame of it with them. With a deep sigh, he rested his elbows onto his knees and covered his face.

 _What the fuck am I doing?_ Keith was so disappointed in himself. Morals weren't the only thing he threw out the window that night.  _I'm supposed to be the mature one. Lance is still a kid._

A small whimper and shuffling caught his attention. Lance nuzzled further into the blankets and stretched his arm out toward Keith. This was the second time he had slept in his bed, and he was still just as beautiful. Keith watched him for a few seconds as his brows furrowed and he readjusted. After a moment of thought, Keith reached his hand out and felt the skin of his thigh.  _He's cold._

The shame returned as Keith cursed himself out and rolled back into bed. He moved closer to him and lifted his arm to offer his chest. Lance found his warmth in his restless sleep and cuddled up to him, finally relaxing. His chilled legs wrapped around Keith's, tangling them up and tying him down. Keith lowered his arm over Lance's shoulder and used his hand to play with his hair.

When Lance slept, he parted his lips and furrowed his brows. It was cute and brought a warmth to Keith's chest.  _This boy._ He chuckled to himself and stared at the morning light on the wall. Autumn was fast-approaching and it would bring far more challenges than they needed.

Keith wasn't stupid. He was aware of what they did. That night wasn't a confession; it wasn't an answer; and it would only bring trouble. But feeling Lance wrapped up in his arms was enough for Keith. It was what he wanted more than anything—to wake up with him every day for the rest of his life. The things Lance "had done" didn't mean a thing to him. He didn't care about what happened before they met. The person he loved was  _this_ boy, not the one that was beaten and raped or sold into prostitution. He wasn't some victim or survivor. Lance was a person. Barely a child. Keith wanted to take him far away from all of the things that had hurt him. He would teach him how to live and give him all the things he never got to have. But Lance needed to want the same things. If he didn't, then Keith wasn't going to push. He can't fight with Lady. It wasn't worth it; and if Lance was happy with White, then Keith wished him the best luck.

Keith managed to untangle himself from Lance's body and wrap him up in more blankets. He locked the door behind him and walked down to the kitchen in his sweatpants and grey shirt. It was barely seven a.m. so he didn't need to worry about any kids seeing him and asking questions. Keith yawned as he pushed open the door to the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks.

Cinnamon looked him over and held back a laugh. "Uh," he scoffed, "Good morning, Anger."

"Good," he stepped over to the coffee maker, "morning." An awkward silence filled the air as Keith poured himself a cup and looked around for something he could get Lance.

"Charming likes the honey tea up in the cabinet." Cinnamon dropped two pieces of bread into the toaster. "And strawberry jelly toast."

Keith closed his eyes and cringed. After a moment to freak out, he retrieved a tea bag and another mug. "Sorry." He snatched the kettle from the stove. "If we were...loud or whatever."

Cinnamon burst out laughing and started spreading jelly onto the toast. "Oh man, Anger." He shook his head in amusement, "Honestly, I'm surprised it took this long."

Keith's head snapped over to him, "What?"

Cinnamon placed the toast on a plate and cut them diagonally, "It's so obvious that you guys are in love, sometimes it makes me sick." He set the plate next to Keith and put a little honey in the tea.

"Are you..." he hesitated, "Are you gonna tell Lady?"

Cinnamon shook his head. "What's the point, you know?" He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. His eyes drifted off into his mind. "I've watched White and Charming's ' _relationship'_ for a long time." Shaking his head, he locked eyes with him. "Charming thinks that's what love is. He doesn't know how someone is supposed to be treated. Has he...told you his story?"

Keith nodded and lowered his eyes, lifting his cup of coffee to his lips. "Yeah, he has."

"And you still love him?"

The mug was placed back on the counter with a small click as Keith tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "More than anything."

A smile crept across Cinnamon's cheeks, "Then be patient with him. He's trying, I can tell."

Keith gave him a quick glance and raised an eyebrow, "When did you figure it out?"

Cinnamon erupted in laughter once again. As he gasped for breath he explained, "Oh my god, Anger. Have you  _seen_ yourself?" He wiped his eyes and happily groaned, "Every time you looked at Charming, it was as if you were seeing the most beautiful sunset."

"What?! No I didn't!"

"Yes, you did! And still do!" Cinnamon shook his head and chuckled, "Every time, man." He pointed at the plate, "Now take these to your boy, he wakes up when he's left alone for too long."

Keith couldn't hide his smile as he picked up the toast and mug of tea. He pushed open the door with his back, "Thanks Cinnamon."


	30. Tiffany

Lance stood outside in his powder pink swing coat and white heeled doll shoes. This was White's favorite outfit on him, so he decided it was best to wear it when he welcomed him back from his meeting. After a full week, he would come back to Voltron with news about the other gangs across the state. It was very important, and could be dangerous, so he never brought Lance along in fear of him getting hurt. He pushed Keith out of his mind and focused on the joy of White's return.

The bandages on Lance's hand were still itchy and uncomfortable, but he was too excited. He was rocking back and forth in his heels, bobbing up and down with a warm smile. When White came back from trips such as these, he always had a gift. A few of them included a  _very_ large bouquet of pink roses, hand crafted tea sets, gemstone necklaces, and so much more.

The crunching of gravel brought Lance out of his thoughts as two black sports cars drove up to the orphanage. His excitement made him bounce even more, holding himself back until the cars stopped. White appeared out of one of the cars in his leather jacket and walked around. "Charming, my love!"

Lance squealed and ran up to him, jumping into his arms. White picked him up and kissed him deeply. When they pulled away, he gave a gentle smile. "How are you? How's the hand?"

Lance looked down at his bandages, "It doesn't hurt  _right now."_ He giggled and brought him into a hug as he was held up. "Where is my gift?! What did you get me?!"

White slowly lowered him to the ground and cupped his cheeks. "This time is a little special."

Lance gave him a curious look, "What do you mean?"

"Stay here." White returned to the car and retrieved a small blue squared box with a white ribbon. He gave a small nervous chuckle and handed it over. "This is your first gift."

Lance's face scrunched up in confusion as he gently took it and tugged the ribbon loose. As it let go of the box, the golden words  _Tiffany & Co. _emerged from behind it. Lance gasped and looked up at White, "You didn't." He quickly took the top off and tugged open the matching blue pouch. A brilliant strand of diamonds formed a bracelet with a small diamond flower. "The Tiffany line bracelet."

White laughed and held the packaging to free his hands. "Well, put it on!"

Lance held it out for him, "Could you?"

"Oh right," he took the bracelet and clipped it around his unbandaged wrist. Even in the dim, cloudy light, the diamonds sparkled like buckets of glitter.

Lance admired it on his skin and looked back into White's eyes. "You said this was my  _first_ gift?"

White nodded, "Correct." He placed his hands on Lance's waist, "The second is dinner. Tonight. I've made a reservation."

Lance gave him a confused look, "Why all the special treatment? What's going on?"

White gave him a sheepish smile and shrugged, "Well, you're almost eighteen, and—I don't know. Just come to dinner."

Lance pretended like he was thinking it over for a second before replying. "Of course I'll go to dinner!" He jumped into his arms again with a bright giggle.

"Alright! Alright." White kept an arm around his shoulder and led him toward the door. "Let's go inside."

Lance liked this man. Maybe he loved him. It was strange and complicated. He had spent the night with Keith, and it was like a dream. However, he had to wake up and return to reality. So when Keith stared down at them through the second floor window with his puppy-dog eyes, Lance just stared back and let White lead him inside.

Lance let out an audible sigh and held up his wrist in the light to admire the diamonds. He sat back in the bar chair and lied on the counter. Gigabyte scooted her computer over a few inches with a scowl on her face. "Would you stop that?"

"Just—!" Lance extended his arm over her space. "Look at it! How much do you think it is?"

"Fifty-five thousand."

Lance choked on his own breath and shot up in his chair. "What?"

Gigabyte adjusted her glasses, keeping the same flat expression. "It's fifty-five thousand dollars."

"Are you fucking serious?!"

She rotated her computer screen toward him with a picture of the bracelet on the official Tiffany & Co. website. Lance's stomach dropped as he read the small elegant letters underneath it. "This bracelet is fifty-five thousand dollars."

"Indeed." She yanked her computer back. "I was curious since you've been sitting there for like twenty minutes gawking at that stupid bracelet." She cracked her knuckles and started typing, "So shut up now. I'm busy."

"Holy fucking shit." Lance stared at the diamonds in awe. "You don't think...he  _stole_ it, do you?"

"No, he didn't."

"How do you—!" Lance cut himself off. "Actually, I don't wanna know."

"So what's up with you now?" Gigabyte let out a frustrated sigh and crossed her arms. "You're boning Anger while White's out?"

Lance's heart stopped as his head shot up and locked on hers. "How did you know about that?"

She raised an unamused eyebrow at him, "You aren't as quiet as you think you are."

A deep blush rose from his cheeks as his shoulders tensed. "Well—! I just—!" He tried to find anything to say.

"Charming." Gigabyte's face showed the slightest hint of concern. "What are you doing?"

"What—uh, what are you talking about?" He averted his eyes and ran his fingers over the bracelet.

"With Anger and White." Her voice hardened. "Are you in love with Anger...or White?"

Lance's mouth opened to answer, but no sound came out. He blinked a few times in confusion as his mind thought it over.  _Anger...is soft and gentle with me. He wants what's best and respects my boundaries. But White...I've been with him for years now. He's caring and loving. He takes care of me and saved me from that place._ "It's...not that simple."

"How is it not simple?" Gigabyte's tone shifted into a lake of judgement. "You've got two men fighting for your affection and you don't like either of them?"

Lance's eyes flickered up to hers as he gave her a look of pity.

"Oh my god..." she sat forward and leaned on the bar. "You like them both."

"In different ways." Lance groaned and ruffled his hair. "It's so complicated."

"It's really not—"

"Look, Gigabyte." Lance stopped her with a strict hand. "I've got a dinner with White tonight, and I'm just gonna enjoy that. I really don't want to think about that mess right now."

Gigabyte glared at him and pursed her lips. "You're really fucked up, you know that, right?"


	31. White's Gift

Lance swayed in the mirror as he debated whether or not he should wear his dark sparkly blue dress or his beige sweater and puffy black skirt. He turned to scan White's bedroom, waiting for something to catch his eye. Nothing gave him any inspiration, so he turned back to the mirror and tugged on his dress. It didn't look as "autumn" as the skirt, but he liked it better. Clipping the bracelet onto his wrist, he slipped his black tights into a pair of glittery black heels.

"Pretty."

Lance immediately recognized the voice and spun around to meet his eyes. "Red..."

Keith had his arms crossed as he leaned against the door frame, staring at Lance's outfit. "Where are you going?" His face and voice were both laced with a flat pity.

Lance took in a shaky breath and puffed his chest, "White made dinner reservations. We're going out."

Keith's eyelids fell as his face scrunched up. He hung his head and let out a sharp breath. "Are we—? Do you—? Is he...?" Words had trouble forming in his mouth, leaving him speechless and crushed.

Lance turned back to the mirror and fiddled with his freshly wrapped hand. "Red..." he couldn't recall any wanted emotions and struggled to voice his thoughts. All he could do was keep his voice snappy and short. "I'm going to dinner with White. I'll be back late." He snatched a diamond hair clip and pulled on his hair. "Get some rest. The gang will meet up tomorrow to discuss what news White has gotten. From the mood he's in, I don't think it's anything bad."

Keith kept trying to answer, but he couldn't. Instead, he shook it off and walked up to him. "Here, it's crooked." He took the hair clip out and readjusted it to sit above his ear. A pretty diamond flower. "There you go. That's better." He rested his hand on his hip and met his eyes through the mirror.

Lance slowly turned his body around, keeping their bodies close. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted Keith to pick him up and take him down to his room. Or up to the roof. They could sit and watch the stars like they had done before. "Red..." he averted his eyes, "I've gotta leave. The limo's waiting."

Keith's lip quivered a little, but he looked away and bit it. His eyes filled with distress as he stepped back. "You...stopped calling me by my name."

Lance's eyes went wide and stared at him as he headed toward the door. He lifted an arm to stop him, but couldn't get his lungs to work and Keith left.

-

White offered his hand to Lance as he walked up to the limo. They climbed in and made themselves comfortable in the seats, sipping on drinks and laughing with each other. Lance sat sideways in his lap and hugged his neck. He kissed his cheek and giggled at the jokes he was throwing. Maybe he didn't know what he wanted, maybe he did. None of that mattered to him, because he was having fun. He wanted to enjoy the night and just deal with everything in the morning. Tonight was for fun.

-

Keith angrily swept the still main room, choking back the tears that clawed at his throat. He stopped for a moment and rested his head against the broomstick. Shaky breaths crushed his chest as he tried to keep himself calm, but failing miserably. "Dammit!" He threw the broom at the wall and shoved a chair down.

"Anger!" Two large arms wrapped around him and held him back as a pitiful voice cried out to him. "Please stop!"

"Let me go, Cinnamon!" Keith fought against his hold and kicked. "Let  _go_!"

Cinnamon drug him back and lowered them to the floor, keeping his arms restrained. He pleaded with him, "Please just stop."

Keith's muscles gradually lost their strength as his anger was replaced with pure sorrow. He was finally let out, falling to his hands and knees. Tears overflowed and spilled onto the floor as sobs bounced off the walls.

Cinnamon placed a hand on his back to comfort him. "Anger...I'm so sorry."

He slapped his hand away. "I trusted him!"

-

"Woah! This is so good!" Lance gawked at the beautifully made food. "And it's so pretty!"

White leaned on his hand and watched him with a loving gaze.

Lance noticed his stare and blushed a little, "What?"

"You're just so cute."

"Hey!" Lance giggled and shook his head. "Don't get all soft on me  _now_! We've got a reputation to keep up."

White chuckled, letting it slowly fade out. He fiddled with his suit, "Hey Charming?"

Lance took another bite of his food, "What?"

"Do you...know my name? My real one?"

His heart stopped for a moment. "Uh..." he cowered down, "Do you want the truth?"

White laughed at him, "That's what I thought!" He shook him off with a soft hand, "It's alright." Tugging his dog tags out from his clothes, he kept the air light. "Here, I want you to have one."

Lance was taken aback. He furrowed his brows in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Charming...can I know your name?"

Lance set his fork down gently and thought it over. "Um..." he hesitantly reached up to his neck and pulled his own out, "Yeah, okay." He handed them over.

White stared down at them and read the small words. A smile crept across his lips as he gazed back up at him. "Lance."

He gave him a loving smile back and nodded. "Shiro."

The tags jingled as Shiro took one off each of them. "You see...we have copies for a reason." He switched them, leaving a Lance tag and a Shiro tag on each. "When you find someone you love," he handed him one pair of tags, "you switch and share both."

Lance gently lifted them out of the air and stared at his new addition. He read over his own, then Shiro's. "I get to keep this?"

Shiro nodded and slipped his own under his clothes. "Now our names are together."

A warm feeling rose in his chest as he put his own tags on. It felt so different to have someone else's name on his skin. A good different, but also a strange different.  _Someone wants me._ Lance felt needed. For the first time in his life, he didn't have any doubts about being alive.

"Although," Shiro wiped his mouth and shuffled in his chair, "You may have to get a new one."

Lance gave him a confused chuckle, "What?"

Shiro got out of his chair and got down on one knee next to Lance. "Lance McClain," he opened a small box to reveal a heart shaped Tiffany & Co. diamond ring.

Lance covered his dropped jaw with a gasp. "White!" His heart pounded against his ribs.

Shiro laughed and gazed up with loving eyes. "Lance McClain. You are the most beautiful, powerful, independent, and strongest person I've ever met. We've been together for almost three years, and you'll be eighteen soon." He let out a nervous chuckle as excited tears filled his eyes. "I would be so honored if you would spend the rest of your life with this old man."

Lance laughed and looked up to keep his mascara from running. "Shiro!"

"Lance McClain," Shiro held up the ring and gave him a tender gaze, "Will you marry me?"


	32. Leadership

Lance pinched the sheets between his fingertips as he recalled his night with Keith. A feeling of overwhelming regret punched him in the stomach.  _What did I just do?_ He sighed and fought the tears that were forming in his eyes.  _What? White's gone for a few days and I cheat on him? What kind of a lover is that?_

"Oh, you're awake." Keith gently shut the door behind him and walked into the room with a plate of toast and a steaming mug.

Lance pushed himself up and motioned to his hands, "Is that for me?"

Keith nodded and set them on his desk beside his bed. "Thought you might be hungry." He turned to open his closet and flip on his bathroom light. 

That feeling of dread shot through his veins again. He clamped his eyes shut and hung his head. "I'm sorry." 

Keith spun around in response to the faint whimper. He was silent for a moment before replying. "For what?"

 _For what I'm about to do._ Lance swung his legs over the side of the bed and picked up the plate and mug, hurrying out of the room without saying anything more.

-

Keith took a deep breath and walked into the meeting room, plopping down in the chair closest to the door. Cinnamon took the seat next to him and Gigabyte walked in and sat across from them. White was in the seat at the head of the table, like usual, but Lance sat in the seat next to him. They held serious faces deep in thought.

White stood and called the group to order when everyone was settled. He sat down and folded his hands, "So there has been a special request for Voltron. We have done favors with Lotor before, and are in good standing, but..." he scoffed.

Lance took over and crossed his arms on the table, "They want a patch-over."

Gigabyte slammed her hand on the table, "What?!" She furrowed her brows and shouted in anger, "Hell no! I ain't wearing no one else's patch!"

White gave her a serious look, "They want to wear the Voltron patch."

"Okay, yeah, uh, no." Cinnamon jumped in. "I'm gonna have to say no to that. Lotor's gang has no right to wear Voltron."

"I agree with Cinnamon." Keith decided to add his own opinion to the mix. He stared at Lance while the other voices argued. Troubled eyes and weary skin overtook his face.  _Maybe something happened at their dinner date?_

"You actually want to do this?!" Gigabyte had stood and jabbed an angry hand at him.

White kept his voice calm, but stern. "I can see the benefits, but I wanted to take a vote."

Keith tightened his crossed arms, "Why isn't Charming saying anything?"

The group stopped and looked to Lance for an answer. He met all their eyes, but couldn't speak. White jumped in to save him, "We already talked about it last night. Charming stands with me."

"Let's just let everyone cool down and think it over," Lance finally spoke. "Then we'll vote."

"Hello, hello!" King's peppy voice sounded from the door. "Is this a bad time?"

Allure stepped into the room behind him, "Hello everyone!"

Keith furrowed his brows and stared at them, "What are  _you_ doing here?"

Cinnamon slapped his shoulder for being rude and welcomed them. "Hey guys, how's it going?"

"Quite great, I think, no?" Allure gave Lady a wink.

White stood up with a smile and offered them the two chairs across from Lance. "Glad you guys could make it." He addressed the group again, "King and Allure have joined us to discuss an important announcement."

Gigabyte and Keith shared the same snappy confusion, while Cinnamon's face flashed with curiosity. They looked like they were going to speak, but stayed silent and waited for an explanation.

White cleared his throat, "There's going to be a slight leadership change."

"What kind of change?" Keith's chest was aching with fear.

"Well, as you know, I'm the president of Voltron." He motioned to King and Allure, "They're the founders—the king and queen of Voltron."

"I'm kind of following," Gigabyte huffed and adjusted her glasses, "But what does that have to do with anything? What's changing?"

A light smile tugged at White's lips. "We are getting a Consort."

"Who?" Keith and Cinnamon shared a worried look.

White offered a hand to Lance, "Charming?"

Lance took it and stood. He gave Lady a smile and addressed the group with his hands behind his back. "I will be Voltron's Consort." His eyes flickered up to Lady, then back. "White and I...are engaged." He finally uncovered his hand and showed off a heart shaped diamond ring. "We'll be getting married in the summer—once I turn eighteen."

The voices that filled the room faded into a blob of noise as Keith's mind tried to make sense of what was happening. He watched Lance's finger as the diamond sparkled with his movements.  _Lance and White...are getting married?_

Keith stomach churned as he stood with wobbly legs and hurried out of the room. He ran to his room and dropped to his bathroom floor, vomiting into the toilet. Trembling took over his hands and arms as he tried to calm his lungs. His wide eyes couldn't form any tears in reaction, but he felt all the pain that accompanied them.  _Lance and White are getting married._

"Anger?" A small, light voice called to him from his door.

He couldn't answer, so he wiped his mouth and sat back to rest against the wall. Gigabyte inched her way into his room and sat on her knees at his bathroom door. She folded her hands in her lap, "I'm sorry."

Keith took deep, struggled breaths. "For what?"

Gigabyte hung her head. "I know how much you loved him. Even if I didn't like you, I didn't want this for you." She took a quick breath and raised her head, locking eyes with him. "My name is Pidge. You don't have to tell me yours if you don't want to, but...just know that I'm here and I trust you."

"Keith." He held his stomach as he fought the nausea. "My name is Keith."

Pidge gave him a smile and a nod. "Okay Keith." She patted his knee, "I'll leave you now."

Keith grabbed her arm, "Wait, Pidge!"

She knelt back down, "What?"

"Please..." he cleared his throat. "Please sit with me."

Pidge was nice when she wasn't angry. He didn't know what she did, but if she could trust him with her name, then he could welcome her as a friend. "Okay," she moved into the bathroom and sat next to him, hugging her knees. "To distract you..."

Pidge locked eyes with him. "I'll tell you my story."


	33. Gigabyte's Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song attached to Pidge's story is Where Do Babies Come From? by Melanie Martinez.

Pidge took a quiet breath and started with a longing gaze at the floor. "I was born out of wedlock. A bastard child. My parents didn't want me, I was a complete mistake."

Keith swallowed hard and furrowed his brows. Gigabyte is telling him her story? What a turn of events.

"They were poor and tired, living in a trailer in some podunk town their whole lives." Pidge hugged her knees tighter. "I don't remember my father that much, but I  _do_ remember him kissing my forehead goodbye when I was four. The...day he left." She sighed and looked up at Keith. "My mother never wanted me. She was obsessed with my father, and blamed me for his leaving. At first, my mother just ignored me. I had to get my own food and stay out of her way as she cried and threw things.

"A while after that, she started to care for me. I got meals and clothes. I was privileged to get those things—she drilled that into my head." Pidge averted her eyes and ran a hand through her hair. "When I was in grade school, she started demanding more from me. Nothing but good behavior and straight As were acceptable."

A small tear fell from her eye, but she quickly wiped it away. "I remember one day when I got a C on a test. She...beat me. I didn't get any dinner and she left deep bruises."

Keith drew in a small gasp, "Man, Pidge. That's terrible."

She waved him off and continued, "Things changed after that. If I got on her nerves or didn't do the right things, she would hit me or kick me—maybe even cut my arm. Then..." her face scrunched up in remorse. "Then things got worse. She would burn me with her cigarettes or yank my hair out. I didn't even need to do anything wrong."

_"Katie!" Pidge heard her mother's angry voice shout up the stairs. "Get your ass down here right now!"_

_"Shit," Pidge stood up from her desk and hesitantly stepped down the stairs. Her mom was standing at the bottom with a scowl on her face and her arms crossed. When she reached the bottom, she hung her head. "Yes, Mom?"_

_Pidge was yanked by her hair and dragged into the kitchen. "Ow! Mom! Please stop!"_

_He mother shoved her face toward the counter at a slip of paper. "What the fuck is this?!"_

_Pidge fought against her hold and looked at the words on the page. Her report card. She knew that she wasn't doing well, but she couldn't get her grades up by midterms. "Mom, I'm sorry. I tried to do better!"_

_Her mom yanked her hair up and forced her face toward her. "What do you take me for?!" She tugged on her hair, taking a few strands out of her head. "Is this the thanks I get for taking care of you?!"_

_Tears streamed down Pidge's cheeks, "I'm sorry! Mom! Please!"_

_"Shut up!" She leaned down close to her face. "This is why your father didn't want you."_

Pidge hung her head in embarrassment, "That's why I...beat you so badly."

"You mean when I got in trouble with White?" Keith was suddenly struck with understanding of all her actions.

Pidge nodded, "Yeah. My mother would do the exact same thing to me." She fidgeted, "Sorry, by the way."

Keith shook his head, "That's long gone. No hard feelings."

Pidge nodded, letting a small smile tug her cheeks. "My father would send her a lot of money, so we moved into a nicer house and lived on. But her beatings got worse and worse. She'd lock me out in the rain or break plates over my head—making me clean everything up afterword."

Pidge took a deep breath and lifted her head. "I met White one day when I passed out on the street. I hadn't gotten any food for days and she locked me out, so I wandered around. White found me and took me here. When I woke up he fed me, let me have a hot shower, and gave me warm clothes. He told me about the orphanage and that I could stay.

"King and Allure had a meeting with me. As they did with everyone. They are the only ones who know our real names and stories.  _But_ King knows half and Allure knows the other. So no one in Voltron knows everything about everyone."

Keith was surprised, "Why so much confidentiality?"

"Well," she looked up to the ceiling, "They say it's because of morality and trust, but  _honestly_? I think it's all legality. The less we know about us, the harder it will be for us to get caught."

"What about the tags?"

Pidge shrugged, "In case we die. It's kind of gang law that once a member is dead, they are buried with their real name. Well,  _that_ and if something like Charming's hand happens. It's got our blood types and information for the doctors."

Keith nodded and loosely hugged his knees. His stomach started to ache again as Lance returned to his mind. He winced and rubbed his eyes with frustrated palms. "Oh Gigabyte...what do I do?"

Pidge thought it over for a minute, letting her eyes drift around the room. After a few moments, she sighed and turned back to him. "I don't know."


	34. If This Is Love

Lance held his hand up to stare at the heart diamond on his finger as he lied in Egyptian cotton. Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a blue glow onto the ring. Shiro's arm was draped over his shoulders as he gently snored. Lance loved how he looked when he slept: always on his stomach with his arms and legs spread out. Sometimes he would let him curl up into his chest, which was nice, but rare.

Lance slowly rolled over to face him and placed his hand over his cheek, using his fingertips to move his hair away from his eyes.  _He's so cute._ With a happy sigh, he got out of bed and slipped one of Shiro's shirts on.

Too much had happened in such a short time: Lance slept with Keith, Shiro proposed, and now Lance was becoming a Consort. It was exciting, but overwhelming. A pang of guilt shot his chest as he recalled Keith's face when he revealed their engagement. He went pale and looked like he would be sick. Lance hopped down the stairs, his feet pattering on the wood. It felt wrong to leave things like that. Keith deserved an explanation—or at the very least deserved to be heard.  _Would he even see me?_  Lance shook off his doubt and placed two soft knocks on his door.

The room was silent for a while.  _Is he asleep?_ Lance knocked again. After waiting for a minute, he flipped through his keys and unlocked his door. The room was dark when he entered, but Keith might have been asleep; so he kept them off and walked up to the bed. Empty.

"Hmm," Lance took a quick look over his room, then left.  _Kitchen?_ No.  _Bar?_ Nope. He stopped and thought over his options. Keith didn't hang out many places.  _The rooftop?_

Lance pulled open a drawer by the front desk of the main room and snatched the pack of Camels and a lighter. He lit one of the cigarettes as he walked up to the top floor, leaving behind a faint trail of smoke through the halls. When he reached the window he used to climb out of, he put it out and maneuvered his way onto the roof.

A scoff sounded next to him. "What do you want, Charming?"

Lance settled into the roof tile and hugged his knees. "I just...wanted to talk to you."

Keith let out a long drag of his Marlboro and rubbed his temple with his palm. "What the fuck do you want to say to me?" He checked his phone, "At four in the morning."

Lance felt intense guilt coarse through his veins. He rested his chin on his knees and averted his eyes, "I just—I know you're mad at me."

"Well, no shit." Keith lit another cigarette. "But I don't want to talk about it."

"Yes you do." Lance lit a Camel and let out a breath of smoke. "Come on, just yell at me or scream or just freak out. Go ahead."

"I said no." His voice tightened and ached with sorrow. As strong and standoffish as he was, Keith was really upset.

"Why?"

Keith locked eyes with him and furrowed his worn eyebrows. Heartbreak covered all the skin of his body and twirled into his hair. His lips quivered as he spoke in a weary breath. "Because all I want to do is kiss you."

 _Then do it!_ Lance took a deep breath and kept their eyes together. "Oh..."  _Do it!_ "Just...talk to me. Please."  _Kiss me!_

Keith's eyelids gently closed as his face scrunched up. "Lance," he choked back a sob, "I just can't."

_Kiss me!_

Keith covered his face, "I thought you were...the love of my life."

_Do it! Now!_

"Why?" Tears spilled from Keith's eyes as he met his stare. "Why him?" His chest jumped a few times with quick breaths, "Am I not enough for you?"

Lance didn't know he was crying until he felt a tear fall on his hand. He stared down at it and clamped his eyes shut. "Keith," Lance whimpered, "Just make up your mind."

Keith sniffled, "What?"

Lance couldn't hold himself back anymore. He clutched his chest and shouted through his tears, "Are you gonna kiss me or not?!"

Keith furrowed his brows as more waterfalls drenched his cheeks. He reached out and forcefully cupped his face, "Why are you like this?!"

Lance couldn't find an answer. All he could do was stare and wait for a reaction. He sobbed and wrapped his uninjured hand around one of Keith's wrists.

Keith clicked his teeth and pulled him into a deep kiss, threading his fingers through Lance's hair. Lance threw his cigarette off the roof and climbed onto his lap. Moans and sobs mixed together as Keith's hands travelled up his back and across his thighs. As much as Lance loved Shiro, he couldn't resist the feeling he got when he was with Keith.

He may enjoy it, but it was so strange. Too gentle. Too caring. If this was love, then why did it feel so wrong? Something wasn't right about it.

Keith couldn't hold back his cries as he pulled away and buried his head into Lance's shoulder. "Why him?" he whimpered, "Why  _him_?"

Lance wiped his cheeks and pet Keith's hair as he hugged him. "I'm so sorry." He fiddled with the ring on his finger. "I am  _so_ sorry."

 

Lance took in a sharp, shaky breath and held Keith tighter. "I love him."


	35. Every Choice Has A Consequence

Keith didn't bother knocking on the office door before he walked in. King sat at his desk with stacks of paper and a cigar hanging from his lips. "Anger," he gave him a bright smile, "What can I do for you?"

Keith rubbed his sore eyes and sat down in one of the red puffy chairs. After a deep breath, he lifted his head and looked into his eyes. "I want to leave Voltron."  
  
  
  


Hunk hurried through the halls and searched with frustrated groans. He finally found Charming in White's private library. He stomped up to him with balled fists.

Charming stood from a small table to greet him with a smile, "Hey Cinnamon! What's u—!"

Hunk slapped him hard. He couldn't hold back his anger anymore. Charming held his cheek and looked at him with sheepish eyes. They didn't speak for a few moments; but when Hunk finally found his voice, he opened his mouth. "Charming, what the fuck are you doing?"

Confusion flashed across his face, "What do you mean?"

Hunk rested his fists on the table. "Why in God's name are you marrying White when everyone in Voltron knows you love Anger?"

Charming lifted his head and puffed his chest, "I love  _White._  I always have."

Hunk chuckled in disbelief, "Are you just going to keep telling yourself that until you believe it?"

Charming slapped his hands down onto the table, "I  _do_ love him!"

"No, you don't!"

"White loves me," Charming talked with frustrated hands, "He saved me and gave me a home. He's sweet and loving and cares for me. It's not your fucking problem!"

Hunk lowered his voice and glared back at him, "If he loves you so much, then why does he refuse to get you bottom surgery?"

Charming was caught off-guard. He tried to respond, but couldn't find any words.

"If he loves you so much, then why does he make you wear these ridiculous clothes?"

"That's—That's not because—!"

Hunk hit the table again, "And if you love  _him_ so much, then why the fuck did you sleep with Anger in the first place?"

Charming's face tensed up in thought. It looked like he had finally listened to what someone was telling him. He folded his arms over his stomach and looked down at his ring.

"Charming..." Hunk took a breath to calm down. " _Lance,"_  he sat down across from him. "Why did you choose White over Anger?"

Lance sat back down in his chair and stared at the floor. "Hunk, he's just...he doesn't feel right." He looked over at the book he was reading, "Anger doesn't have the same feeling I've experienced many times before. He doesn't touch me the same way. He doesn't kiss me like everyone has. Everything he does is so...foreign." Lance looked down at his hands, "And when he looks at me...he stares in this...strange way.

"Anger doesn't push me. He meets me where I am and asks me what he's allowed to do. He holds me like I'm some porcelain doll—like I'll break. Like I'm a god." Lance furrowed his brows and shook his head, "That can't be love. It's not... _right._ "

Hunk's heart broke, "Lance..." He reached across the table and offered his hand, which Lance took. "Lance," he squeezed his hand and gave him a look of pity, "That's what it's supposed to feel like."  
  
  
  


Keith looked over his room to check if he left anything. Flashes of Lance cane into his mind. When they sat on the floor drinking hot chocolate, or when he woke up to Lance in his bed, or the nights they spent together. He had made a promise to himself: if Lance was happy with Lady, then he would accept that and support him. It was going to take some time, but he'd get over him. Right now, he needed to go. For himself and Lance equally.

Keith draped his leather jacket off the corner of his bed, remembering how Lance put the Voltron patch on himself. As tears fought his throat, he tossed his key ring and tags onto the bed next to it and walked out. With his bike finally done, he could take it home. He secured his bag and tossed his leg over.

Taking one last look at the orphanage he had come to think of as a home, he started up the bike and drove off.


	36. Here Comes Goodbye

Lance practically leaped down the stairs as he shot through the halls. Hunk was right. About  _everything._ Sometimes the things he would say just angered Lance, but it was much-needed tough love. Everything he said was true. Right?

As he came up to Keith's room, he noticed the door was cracked. His heart skipped a beat as a wide smile spread across his face. He shoved the door open and jumped in the room. "Keith—!"

All of Keith's stuff was gone. The bed was neatly made and his desk was clear. Lance crept up to the bed as his heart hammered against his rib cage. Sitting on top of the blankets was Keith's leather jacket and key ring. Lance's fingertips reached out and gently picked up the jacket, pulling it up to hug it into his chest.

 _No._ Lance yanked the keys off the bed and sprinted out of the room.  _No!_

He tore through the orphanage to the garage. The bike was gone.  _Keith_ was gone.

"Dammit!" Lance hurried up to White's room and burst through the door. He stopped in his tracks as soon as he entered, letting the silence overtake him. A small thud hit the wall as the door settled into place.

Shiro leaned back against the bed with his hands folded. His eyes were droopy and worn. A London Fog satchel tote sat on the floor beside his feet. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours before either of them moved. The room slowly filled with a tense silence, wearing down on their shoulders.

Lance clutched Keith's jacket tighter, "Shiro..."

"I know." He lowered his eyes and sniffled. "Go ahead."

Lance's heart shattered at the sight. "You..." he inched forward, "You don't love me like I need you to."

A tear crawled down his cheek as his voice became tight and shaky. "Please don't." He looked at him with pleading eyes. "Please stay with me."

Lance placed his hands on Shiro's forearms, letting him support his elbows. "If I stay," he swallowed hard and lifted his eyes, "will you let me get bottom surgery?" Tears fell down his cheeks, "Will you let me choose what to wear and how to act?"

"But...you loved everything." Shiro's eyes scrunched up as he averted his gaze. "Why should we change this?" A pitiful sob escaped his throat as he dropped his forehead onto Lance's shoulder. "We were so happy."

Lance's throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. "Yeah, we were." He sniffled and wiped his eyes, then wrapped his arms around Shiro's neck. Strong arms cradled his back as he cried into the grey shirt he had slept in so many nights.

"I love you," Shiro whined. "I love you so much."

Lance smiled through his tears and pet his shaved hair, "I know." He finally pulled back and cupped Shiro's cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe his tears. Lance's damp cheeks framed his heartbroken eyes as he lowered his voice to a broken whisper. "But not enough."

Shiro cupped the back of his head and kissed his hair, slowly and gently one last time. When he pulled back, he rested their foreheads together and looked down at him with shimmering eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "Keith's going out of the country. His flight leaves in an hour."

Lance gasped a little as he pulled back and stared up at him.

Shiro looked down at the bag on the floor, "I packed your stuff. A car is waiting for you outside."

Lance broke down, letting sobs overtake his throat and tears run down his neck. Shiro wiped his cheeks and held back his own cries. "I only have one request."

Lance couldn't answer, so he just nodded with clamped eyes.

"Keep wearing the patch." Shiro nuzzled their heads together. "You don't have to leave Voltron."

Lance took a few trembling breaths and tugged his dog tags out, lowering them into Shiro's palm. "I'm sorry." He gripped his ring with his fingertips and struggled to take it off, his heart cracking with every centimeter. Lance cradled the back of Shiro's hand and gently set it down, wrapping his fingers over it. "I'll return one day."

Lance swallowed his sobs and kissed his cheek. "I'll come back to you." He let his head drift back down as he pulled back. "I'll bring Keith and we'll become a team again."

Shiro's lips quivered as he nodded and whispered a faint, "Okay."

Lance released his hold on Shiro and knelt down to pick up his bag. He forced his legs to walk back. Keeping his eyes on Shiro until he left, he stopped at the doorway. "I'll come back to you."

Lance took off down the stairs, wiping his cheeks as he cried. A chaperone opened the door of the black car and welcomed him, taking his bag and starting off. As he drove away from the orphanage, Lance stared back at it with pools of tears in his eyes. When it finally disappeared from view, he clamped his eyes shut and fought his cries.

Even if it didn't work out, Shiro was Lance's first love. He was a great partner, and they loved each other. Lance thought over their days together. A final goodbye. It was his time to mourn.

_Lance skipped down the street with his hand wrapped in Shiro's, clicking his heels with every step. "White! Look!" He pointed out a perfectly groomed poodle. "He's so cute!"_

_Shiro looked down at Lance with a warm smile. "Do you like poodles?"_

_Lance gave him a bright smile and nodded. "Very much so!"_

Lance's chest ached with the absence of the ring. No more orphanage. No more Shiro. No more ring, and no more dog tags. It should've felt liberating, but he was scared.

_Shiro's hands trailed down his waist as his lips stroked his neck._

_Lance giggled and leaned away from the touch, "Hey! That tickles!"_

_Shiro tugged his hips closer and kissed his nose. "You want to go get ice cream tomorrow?" He nuzzled his forehead into Lance's. "I'll take you shopping."_

_Lance cupped his cheeks and gazed into his eyes. "Of course I do."_

Keith. He was getting on a plane to go far away. Lance allowed his heart to break and yearn for Shiro. He deserved that much. There was no more "Princess Charming." No more of "White's boy." Now, Lance was finally just Lance McClain. A privilege he had never been given.

It was going to be difficult and frightening, but there was a certain broken-hearted man standing in an airport waiting to leave. Lance sniffled, wiped his eyes, and shouted up to the driver as he threw on Keith's jacket. "Step on it!"


	37. Flight 1130

Keith flicked his thumb nail over the edge of his coffee lid as he leaned his elbows onto his knees. Staring at the ground in a small, quiet airport wasn't where he saw himself at a month ago. The last few weeks had been agonizing and heart wrenching. Maybe he could make a home where he was going. Then he wouldn't have to come back.

Keith sighed and sat back in the bench. Yeah. He didn't have to go back. Voltron was a thing of the past. What else was there to stay for?

_"Flight 1130 now boarding."_

Keith stood with a grunt, tossed his coffee cup in a nearby trash can, and headed onto the plane. He stuffed his bag under the seat in front of him and settled in, staring out the window. Tears clawed at his throat, but he didn't have the energy to tolerate them.

 _This is it. I'm finally free._ Keith felt the tears fall as he cursed himself.  _Falling in love. What a stupid thing to do._  
  


Lance hurriedly thanked the driver, yanking his bag out of his hands and shoving people out of his way. He ran as fast as he could to the desk, rushing through security and searching through the small waiting rooms.  _Come on! Where are you?!_ Lance read the screens until he found it. Flight 1130. He sprinted up to the desk and flashed the Voltron patch, immediately being let on even though he was late.

Lance's white swing coat fluttered with all his jumpy movements; his matching Lolita heels clicked loudly with his panicked steps. "Hey!" He ran up to the flight attendant just as she was about to give her safety speech and pointed at the intercom. "I need that."

She gave him a confused and snappy expression. "Excuse me?"

"Ugh!" Lance dropped his bag and flashed the Voltron patch on Keith's leather jacket. He had become a little sweaty and irritated from wearing two coats. "Give me the intercom."

She immediately backed down and handed it to him. "I'm sorry, sir. Go right ahead."

Lance yanked it from her hand and jammed the button down with his uninjured fingers. "Sorry to interrupt your flight. Please excuse this message. My name is Lance McClain." His eyes scanned all the faces in the plane. "Keith Kogane?" He paused, thinking of how to start this mess of an apology. "I...I told you that I loved Shiro."

Lance struggled to find him, "Keith, I...was so wrong." He bobbed with anxiety as he spoke in a panic. "And I know that I don't deserve to see you or speak to you or even be on this plane right now. But..." Lance's heart beat faster and harder as he still couldn't find Keith. "But I'm here now. I'm on this plane and I've got my passport and a ticket and I don't care if you hate me, because I..." he cleared his dry throat. "Because I love  _you_ , Keith."

The soft thudding of boots appeared in the aisle as a teary-eyed Keith stood almost ten feet away. His hair was disheveled and his clothes were wrinkled.

Lance lifted the intercom to his mouth again. "Keith Kogane,  _Red,_ you are the love of my life." A tear fell from his eye as he gave him a soft smile. "I'm sorry I made you feel like you were worthless. I'm sorry I was blind and stupid and just a complete ass to you."

Keith took a hesitant step toward him with heartbreak still sprawled across his skin.

Lance shifted his weight, moving his heels in a nervous habit. "I don't know why you chose me." He could feel his throat constrict as he fought to keep it open and clear. "I yelled at you. I treated you like dirt. If I were you, I would've left a long time go. Yet...you kept fighting for me."

Lance chuckled and wiped his cheeks with the leather sleeve. With a quick breath, he lifted his head. "You never forced me to do anything. You actually had to  _stop_ me from doing stupid things most of the time. You made sure I was comfortable; and cared for me when Shiro wasn't at his best. You always met me where I was, never forcing yourself on me. In return, I..." Lance choked back a sob. "In return, I played you. I led you on and then threw you away."

Keith's cheeks flushed with sorrow as he took another small step forward. He balled up his fists and clenched his jaw.

"I'm sorry." Lance shook his head. "I'm so sorry." He locked their eyes and emphasized his words. "But no more running. I'm here. I'm ready. You waited for me and I took advantage of that—of you." More tears escaped his eyelashes. "You were always so patient with me. You dealt with all my shit and let me do things I should  _never_ have done.

"I don't deserve you. I don't think I ever did. I don't have any right to rush here and stand up in front of everyone and confess my undying love. I don't deserve your attention or your care. But...I just have one more thing to ask of you."

Keith had stopped halfway up the aisle and waited for him. Again. He listened and gave him space, just like he had done so many times before.

Lance blinked the tears from his eyes. "Take me with you." A smile spread across his cheeks. "Take me away and give me a chance to make this right." His mouth had become dry and sore. "I love you, and trust you with my life. Even though I am the  _worst_ person you could have ever chosen, can you...ever trust me again?"

Keith Keith averted his eyes and licked his chapped lips. He stared down at his shoes as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. After a few dry sobs, he lifted his head and held out his arms. Like the gift from heaven he was, he offered up his entire being once more to save a sinner that didn't deserve it. Lance dropped the intercom and ran up to him, almost knocking both of them over when he jumped into his arms.

Applause and coos filled the recycled air around them as Keith held him up, clinging to Lance like he was his savior. He took in a sharp breath and quickly kissed his neck. "I love you, too, you crazy son of a bitch."

Lance pulled back to lean into a deep kiss, wrapping his arms around his head and bringing them even closer. He left kisses on his forehead, cheeks, nose, and lips as he laughed through his tears.

Lance cupped his cheeks and looked down at him with loving eyes. This had waited long enough. Keith deserved so much more than Lance could give, but he wanted to spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it. Lance gave him one last, long kiss and gazed into his reddened eyes.

"I choose  _you._ "


	38. Allura Mace and Coran Navy Interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was writing these chapters, I decided to do an interview with the characters. These are all questions collected from the readers on Wattpad. The story will continue after these extra chapters. I encourage you to read them because there's a lot of foreshadowing and answers to questions you may have been asking yourself while reading, but I can't force you. Hope you enjoy.

*Small note before we start: For the purpose of simplicity, all characters will use the others' real names instead of nicknames. Also, these interviews aren't canon in Call Boy Blue. They are answered by its characters, but anything revealed to any of them is not canon. These interviews are here for you to get to know these characters (and the story) a little bit better.*

_*whispers* plus foreshadowing. of course._   
  
  


[Interview Start]

[Allura and Coran are sitting in two chairs and a plain black background with the Call Boy Blue cover behind them]  
  


Allura: My name is Allura Mace.

Coran: My name is Coran Navy.

Allura: And we're Allure and King from Call Boy Blue.  
  


Interviewer: "So, King and Allure, you know everything about Voltron?"  
  
  


Allura: Well, not exactly. We share the knowledge. I know some of the members' names and Coran knows the rest—because we make the dog tags. The same rule goes for their stories. Only one of us is allowed to be told a certain member's origins. The only exception to that rule is Shiro. I think Shiro actually knows more about them than we do. So, collectively, yes we know everything.  
  
  


"Did you know about Keith and Lance's relationship?"  
  
  


Allura: Of course we did. I mean, there's security cameras everywhere except the meeting room, the dance studio, and all the bedrooms. We know what's happening at any time.   
  
  


"And what did you both think of their relationship?"  
  
  


Allura: *motions to Coran*

Coran: Well, I tend not to interfere or have an opinion. However, when I think about it, I don't mind. I guess if Lance is happy with him, then I'm okay with it.

Allura: I am personally not supportive; but like Coran said, we aren't supposed to have an opinion. Besides, we are usually too busy running the orphanage and dealing with the police and legality of Voltron.  
  
  


"And what about Lance and Shiro's relationship?"  
  
  


Coran: *looks at Allura* You start, I have a long answer.

Allura: Well, same rules apply, but I was wary at first. Eventually I came around.

Coran: Now for me. I support it. Lance is a troubled kid and Shiro really helped him learn more about himself while, at the same time, making him feel needed. That's a very important thing for a survivor. And when Shiro does missions such as his, there are rules—rules that the government and Voltron have set into place. Shiro did everything he was supposed to, and it wasn't his fault that he fell in love. I really liked them together. I was hoping for a wedding.  
  
  


"What about the age difference? Were either of you concerned?"  
  
  


Allura: Oh definitely, but they stayed together and were really good to each other, so I eventually accepted it.

Coran: I didn't think it was a big issue. Voltron has a different set of laws and morals. When someone is around 15 or 16, we treat them the same as everyone else. Lance was actually 15 when they started dating, so it didn't cross any Voltron morals. That leaves it up to their own morality.  
  
  


"Alright! We're playing favorites now. Who is your favorite Voltron member? You can't say each other."  
  
  


Allura and Coran: Shiro.  
  
  


"...okay...?"  
  
  


Allura: I've known Shiro practically all my life, and Coran is the one who took him in. He's family to us.  
  


"Coran, how much money would it take for you to shave off your mustache?"  
  
  


Coran: No.  
  
  


"Allura, in your opinion, who is the most useful member of Voltron?"  
  
  


Allura: Shiro. He is the leader after all. And he recruits members—along with retrieving the abused children that fit our criteria.  
  
  


"Now how did you come up with the idea of Voltron? What inspired you to make it?"  
  
  


Allura: Well, it was my idea. Coran inspired me, actually—Coran and Shiro. I...can't get into spoilers, but Shiro, Coran, and I have been here since the beginning.   
  
  


Interviewer: "Alright! That's all we have for you! Thanks for your time. This has been an interview with Allura Mace and Coran Navy."


	39. Keith Kogane Interview

[Interview Start]  
[Keith is sitting in front of a plain black background with Call Boy Blue Cover behind him.]

Keith: Hello. My name is Keith Kogane. I am a member of Voltron. My nickname is Anger Management. Um...I'm also with another member, Princess Charming.  
  
  


Interviewer: "So Keith, let's cut to the chase. Do you feel bad for Shiro?"  
  
  


Keith: [bleep] no! He was terrible to Lance. I don't care how he tries to make up for it.  
  
  


"Alright then. Um...what are your plans with Lance? Where are you guys going; and what will you do there?"  
  
  


Keith: We are going to a country called Wärshen. It's right above Russia. Really beautiful and not too cold. It's somewhere I've always wanted to go. Now that Lance is coming with me, we will work on building a solid relationship. Trust is a major thing we have to establish, especially since it's been broken many times.   
(A/N: this is a made-up country, duh.)  
  


"Did you ever feel out of place in Voltron seeing that everyone around you has all of these traumatic pasts?"  
  
  


Keith: Um...I think I felt out of place for a lot of reasons, but...I mean, there's a lot of...uh...there's just so much that hasn't been revealed yet. I can't get into spoilers, but...I mean, yeah I did, but not because of that.  
  
  


"Okay, next question: will you ever go back to Voltron?"  
  
  


Keith: Lance brought my patch back and took care of the legality, so I  _am_ in Voltron, but...I mean, we didn't leave permanently that's for sure. I know that eventually we will come back, because Lance won't want to be gone forever. The only thing I worry about is what will happen when we return. It's going to be difficult for Lance to see how Shiro turned out after we left.  
  


"Why did you leave your key ring? Was it because Lance gave it to you? Or was it your dog tags that you left?"  
  
  


Keith: I left both my tags and the key ring. Voltron members get a key ring with the keys to rooms they are allowed to go in. Since I wasn't in Voltron, I didn't need them. I left the dog tags for the same reason.   
  
  


"So Keith, what are your opinions about the other members of Voltron?"  
  
  


Keith: Well, Shiro can [bleep] [bleep] and [bleep] his [bleep]. Lance is my love; I adore him. Hunk is...really nice actually. He's a great friend, y'know; always there for me when I lose my shit. Um...Pidge is...I mean, I think we're cool now. She's a strange one, that's for sure. I don't know that much about Coran and Allura to really have an opinion. They aren't around very often at all.  
  


"When you left for Wärshen, did you say goodbye to your parents?"  
  
  


Keith: Oh, of course. I went back to my house and talked to both of them about everything—where I was going, Lance, why I was leaving. They were supportive and gave me all the money they could for it. I...love my parents. My mother is just the sweetest person and my father, however ignorant he can be, is a great person.   
  
  


"Alright! Thank you so much! This has been an interview with Call Boy Blue star Keith Kogane!"


	40. Pidge Gunderson and Lance McClain Mini-Interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This small interview was added per request, so I hope you like this extra interaction. Sorry it's so short, there aren't a lot of questions that would be better with these two than the other interviews.

[Interview Start]

[Pidge and Lance are sitting in front of a plain black background with the Call Boy Blue cover behind them.]

 

Lance: My name is Lance McClain.

Pidge: And my name is Pidge Gunderson. 

Both: And we're Gigabyte and Princess Charming from Call Boy Blue.

 

"So Lance, what is your favorite outfit you've worn?"

 

Lance: (motions to his clothes: white swing coat and matching lolita shoes) This one!

 

"Pidge, what's your opinion on Shiro and Lance's relationship?"

 

Lance: Ooh! (leans on armrest and gives her a playful smile)

Pidge: (chuckles) They were meant to be, and I will stand by that to the grave!

Lance: Really?

Pidge: Yeah! 

Lance: I thought you said that I was being terrible for liking him when we were talking about the bracelet.

Pidge: (shakes head) No! I was wondering what the fuck you were doing fucking with Keith when you were engaged, you little shit.

 

"Lance, would you ever think of wearing pastel? Like flower crowns? Keith would probably like that."

 

Pidge: He probably would.

Lance: I think I'll always be feminine and I love pastel, so yeah of course.

Pidge: Of course you will.

Lance: (wraps his arms around Pidge's shoulders in a playful hug) You're such a little grump! So cute!

Pidge: I'm not cute!


	41. Pidge Gunderson and Hunk Garett Interview

[Interview Start]  
[Hunk and Pidge are sitting in front of a plain black background and Call Boy Blue cover]

Pidge: My name is Pidge Gunderson.

Hunk: And I'm Tsuyoshi Garett.

Pidge: And we are Gigabyte and Cinnamon Roll from Call Boy Blue.  
  
  


"Did you rehearse that?"  
  
  


Pidge: Yes, we practiced for like an hour.  
  
  


"So Hunk, can I call you Hunk?"  
  
  


Hunk: Yes, of course.  
  
  


"Great! So you get a lot of questions about baking at the orphanage. Have you ever made red velvet cake for the children? What was your favorite thing you made?"  
  
  
  


Hunk: Yes, I have actually! I think we've made pretty much everything at least once. They enjoy learning.

Pidge: And eating.

Hunk: The best thing we bake are the birthday cakes for everyone. They're always individual and we have a lot of fun.  
  
  


"So Pidge, What made you dislike Keith in the first place?"  
  
  


Pidge: He stole Lance away from me! Before, he would always be around me; but after Keith came, he spent all of his time chasing him!

Hunk: She was jealous.  
  
  


"And What made you open up to him? Why tell him your name and story?"  
  
  


Pidge: When I saw how Lance was treating him, I think...I understood what he was going through. When Lance tossed me aside, I was really angry. When he did it to Keith, he was just...so distraught. I guess I just felt that we were in the same boat. But that doesn't make us friends!  
  
  


"Question for both of you: whose names do you guys know?"  
  
  


Pidge: Well, in the story, I know Keith's and...Coran and Allura's.

Hunk: I know Lance's name, and that's because we were best friends when he came to Voltron. The gang really isn't my focus; most of the time I'm with the kids.  
  


"Pidge, how did you feel about Shiro and Lance's relationship?"  
  
  


Pidge: I love Shiro and Lance together. They were meant to be! *mumbles* Then Keith had to go and mess it up. *crosses arms* Listen, I felt bad for Keith, but it doesn't change that. Shiro and Lance, they...they just were that one couple that everyone wishes they could have. The one that people like and look up to, y'know? Except for Hunk.  
  
  


"And what about Keith and Lance's relationship?"  
  
  


Pidge: *shrugs* It's whatever, really. I wish Lance was with Shiro, though.   
  
  


"When did your feelings toward Keith start to change?"  
  
  


Pidge: Well, I started to get really irritated with Lance for leading him on, then I snapped the day they announced their engagement. I looked over and saw Keith go pale and shaky. I just...finally understood him, I think. Some switch flipped in my head.  
  


"Hunk, your turn. What's your opinion on Shiro and Lance's relationship, as well as Keith and Lance's?"  
  
  


Hunk: Shiro and Lance were delusional. The entire relationship was built on Shiro having sex with a sexually abused kid. Lance was so broken, he thought that's what it was supposed to be like. Keith and Lance...I think...Keith is gonna be really good to him, and he needs that. Maybe they both do. I've been there since the beginning, so...I support it, I guess   
  
  


"Last question: will Voltron ever break the fourth wall?"  
  
  


Pidge:.......Does this count?


	42. Takashi Shirogane

[Interview start]  
[Shiro is sitting in front of a plain black background with Call Boy Blue cover]

Shiro: Hello everyone. My name is Takashi Shirogane and I'm the leader of Voltron. They call me Lady in White.  
  
  


"So Shiro, how did you know that Lance was in love with Keith?"  
  
  


Shiro: Um...actually...I started to notice that Lance clung to me more when we were together. Especially at night. It was like he was happy in his safe place, but also felt guilty. After the fight with Peter, Keith didn't really hide the fact that he hated me. That's...how it started I guess.  
  
  


"So if you knew that Lance and Keith were in falling in love with each other, why didn't you propose sooner?"  
  
  


Shiro: Well, I didn't want to be hasty! *laughs* Really, I wanted to figure out where he stood before I asked. When I could tell he was still in love with me, I decided it should be then. I mean, I had planned it out for a while now, too! This wasn't a quick decision. I've wanted to marry him for a long time.  
  
  
  


"Aww! But if you could tell they were in love, why did you propose in the first place? Or did you not notice?"  
  
  
  


Shiro: like I said, I've wanted to marry Lance for a long time. I knew it was happening, but Lance has a reputation. I'm not calling him a whore! That's not what I mean. I just...didn't think it was something serious. I guess I knew that Keith was in love with him, but I didn't know that Lance had the same feelings. In the end, he does still love me, but I'm not the person for him. *teary*  
  
  


"Shiro, we have to ask, why did you have sex with Lance in the brothel when you went there to save him?"  
  
  
  
  


Shiro: *nervous chuckle* I think I need to explain everything for you to understand. Voltron was tipped off to a brothel that housed minors. It was a type of mission that I get personally from a secret source. It hasn't been explained a lot, but Voltron has a lot of laws regarding these private missions. Just the fact that Lance was a minor didn't make it "legal" for me to take him. He had to fit a list of criteria.

So I went in and watched him dance. This was for me to examine him and see if he was actually as young as they said he was. When I determined he was, I went back to the owner's office. I asked a few questions about him—things like "how much does he cost" and "how old is he?" The owner said he was nineteen, which was an obvious lie. So I asked to take him for a few hours.

Some may ask why I didn't just sit him down, tell him who I was, and ask if they were extorting him. You must understand that these victims don't want to tell people that they're being abused for fear that they will get in trouble with the abuser. I had to look like a normal customer.

There's a lot of things you can tell about a person when you're in bed with them. I looked for things that would fit him into the list of people I was looking for: any signs of physical abuse, signs of rape, and if he was faking or genuinely working because he could. Lance checked off every box. So, I confronted the owner and got him to hand him over.  
  
  
  
  


"So Shiro, do you hate Keith?"  
  
  


Shiro:......no? Not really. He irritates me, but I don't hate him. I got a little possessive with Lance when he started showing interest, but that's pretty normal for me. So, no. I don't hate Keith.  
  
  


"Will you respect their relationship when they come back to Voltron?"  
  
  


Shiro: Um...*nervous chuckle* I can't really answer that question. It kinda crosses some spoilers for later, but...uh...yeah, sorry.  
  
  
  


"Thank you Takashi Shirogane! Can't wait for the next chapters!"


	43. Keith Kogane and Lance McClain Interview

[Interview Start]  
[Keith and Lance are sitting in front of a black background with Call Boy Blue cover. Lance is holding Keith's arm.]  
  
  


Interviewer: "We are here with Call Boy Blue stars Lance McClain and Keith Kogane—also known as Princess Charming and Anger Management."

"So let's start with the airport scene."  
  
  


Lance: Oh the infamous plane scene.

Keith: *laughs*  
  
  


"Lance, was it hard to run in both heels and two coats?"  
  
  


Lance: Well the heels weren't the problem! It was the bag, the coats, and the major anxiety. Having the swing coat and the leather jacket was so [bleep] hot.

Keith: You can't say that.

Lance: What?

Keith: [bleep]  
  
  


"Okay! So Keith, what was going through your head when you heard Lance's voice over the intercom?"  
  
  


Keith: I didn't even realize it was him until he said my name.

Lance: I said "My name is Lance McClain!"

Keith: Yeah, but I was too busy trying not to cry on the airplane! After I realized it was him, I ended up crying anyway. I guess it was just such a surprise to see him there. I mean—I didn't know how you got there, how you knew where I was going, or what you were planning.

Lance: Shiro

Keith: What?

Lance: Shiro told be that if I wanted to go, he had my bag packed and a ticket for the plane.

Keith: Well, [bleep]  
  
  


"Keith, what are the cutest things Lance does without noticing it himself?"  
  
  


Keith: Ooh! *they share a look* The cutest thing is definitely how much he likes to be touched. Like, all the time. Whether it's holding hands, an arm around his waist, or like right now! *motions to Lance holding his arm*

Lance: *laughing* Stop teasing me!

Keith: *leans over to kiss his cheek* It's cute.


	44. Lance McClain and Takashi Shirogane Interview

**When I finish the illustration of this interview, I will post it on my Instagram @yuu.kawaguchi23**

[Interview Start]  
[Shiro and Lance are sitting on couches on a tv show interview]

Interviewer: "We are here with the stars of Call Boy Blue, Lance McClain and Takashi Shirogane—also known as Princess Charming and Lady in White!"

[Applause]

"So, first question: Lance, do you wear heels 24/7? If your answer is yes, then does it hurt?"

Lance: Why do people always assume it hurts?

Shiro: *laughing* But you do.

Lance: Yeah, I do. Since I worked in a brothel as a stripper, I wore heels pretty much all the time. When I came to Voltron and Shiro started buying me clothes, I just kept wearing them. Now it's just normal to me.

Interviewer: "Lance—"

Shiro: Again?

Lance: You'll get your turn.

Interviewer: "Lance, have you ever considered dancing in heeled boots? As in cumbia dancing?"

Lance: Uh...

Shiro: *looks at Lance* We've done that. We did a lot of dancing.

Lance: Yeah...since I wear heels all the time, it was natural for me. But we—we *looks at Shiro" We danced a lot.

Interviewer: "Shiro, not to sound mean or rude; but if you had the chance to go back in time, how would you make things better in your  _"relationship"_ with Lance?"

Shiro: Why do people always say  _"relationship"_?

Lance: Yeah, how would you?

Shiro: Not make Keith join Voltron.

[laughing]

Shiro: No, but, uh...I would listen more to Lance's wishes, and just...love him as much as I can in the ways I know how.  
[camera changes to Lance]  
Shiro: I just want to make him happy. Maybe get him a poodle—I know how much he loves those damn dogs.

Lance: *starts crying*

Shiro: Are you crying?!

Lance: I miss you, okay?! *waves off interviewer* Just keep going.

Interviewer: "Uh, moving on...Lance, do you regret leaving Voltron? And if Hunk hadn't talked to you, would you have married Shiro?"

Lance: *wiping eyes* Well, we didn't leave forever. We'll definitely be coming back.

Shiro: And if Hunk hadn't talked to you? Would you have married me?

Lance: *starts crying again* Yes!

Shiro: Oh my god, uh...I would hug you, but...uh...

Lance: Just hug me! We're still friends!

[They stand and hug] [Crowd flips their shit]

Bonus Keith: *done with their shit* This is why we left.

Lance: Can I sit with you?

Shiro: Yeah, that's fine.

[They sit back down next to each other holding hands.]

Interviewer: "Last question: Shiro, do you really think Lance and Keith will come back? And when did it click for you that Lance was in love with Keith?"

Shiro: Oh wow, what a way to end.

Lance: Yeah.

Shiro: I have no doubt in my mind that Lance will come back. Hopefully I can win him back then.

Lance: *laughing* Keith won't be having that!

Shiro: And I knew something was up when we had that fight about Peter. I figured that he went to Keith's room that night. The morning after, when I apologized, Lance was wearing his clothes and Keith stared at me like I was some roach. I just...knew they slept together. Maybe that night?

Lance: *shakes head* No. Not that night.

Shiro: You didn't?

Lance: No. Way after that.

Interviewer: "Well that's all we have folks! Let's give a nice send-off to Lance McClain and Takashi Shirogane!"


	45. Lance McClain Interview

[Interview Start]  
[Lance is sitting on a couch on a tv show interview]

[applause]  
  


Interviewer: "Princess Charming, Lance McClain, the most talked-about character in Call Boy Blue, welcome to the show!"  
  
  


Lance: Thank you for having me.  
  


"So you are the hottest topic of conversation. We've got a lot of questions for you."  
  


Lance: I'm ready.  
  


"Firstly, you had an interview with Takashi Shirogane. How did it feel hearing the things he said about your relationship and such?"  
  
  


Lance: Oh wow, um...I...love him. That's not something that goes away so easily. It got really emotional because of how we left off. Don't get me wrong! I'm in love with Keith and I don't plan on leaving him; but...I think Shiro will always have a special place in my heart. I mean, we almost got married!  
  
  


"Yes! And going with that a little—you said you would've married Shiro if it wasn't for Hunk. Do you think that you would've stayed in that marriage forever?"  
  
  


Lance: um...Wow, that's an intense start. But I guess I should expect that with how things have gone so far. (Deep breath) Okay, so yes, I would have married Shiro if it wasn't for Hunk. Without a doubt. And I truly believe that we would've been together the rest of our lives. We loved each other, regardless of what other people said or thought. I'll admit that I still love him. Keith is the love of my life, but that doesn't just magically take away the feelings I had for Shiro.  
  
  


"Do you ever want to go back to Voltron?"  
  
  


Lance: That isn't even a question. I'm going back home. Voltron will always be worn on my back.   
  
  


"What about Keith's feelings?"  
  
  
  


Lance: I know that Keith doesn't want to go back. That's obvious. But I don't care. We will return one day, hopefully soon.  
  
  
  


"If you didn't go back, would you want to visit or have them visit you? Even Shiro?"  
  
  
  


Lance: We would definitely visit. Keith wouldn't like it, but I want to see Shiro again. I want to be close to him and I hope we can have a great relationship even though I'm with Keith.  
  
  
  


"Does it worry you that you keep saying you still love Shiro and want to be close to him?"  
  
  


Lance: Well, worry me? Maybe. I don't know how things will go, but I hope to have a solid relationship with Keith before I see him again.  
  
  
  


"Continuing with that, what is the thing you're gonna miss the most about Shiro?"  
  
  
  


Lance: Oh...(long pause, looks down) I...uh...I'll miss the way he...(tears up) I think I'll miss the feeling of his arms around me. I...will miss how he always had an arm around me to...protect me from the world. He was always possessive. I loved that. So I guess...everything.  
  
  
  


"And what will you miss about Voltron?"  
  
  
  


Lance: I think I will miss the familiarity of it. It was the first place I lived where I wasn't being abused. It's my home.  
  
  


"Out of all the outfits you wore, what is your favorite?"  
  
  


Lance: My white swing coat, Lolita heels, and Tiffany bracelet. 

"Did you ever think of wearing pastel? Maybe flower crowns? Keith would probably love that."

Lance: *laughs* I think I will always have a feminine style. Pastel is something I wore a lot, and yeah I definitely will.

 

"So, Last question: what happened to your parents? And did you ever try to escape?"

 

Lance: I...don't know what happened to my parents. I don't really remember much about them at all. But, no, I didn't try to escape. But other girls did. None of them ever got far before being beaten, so I decided it wasn't something I should try.   
  


"Alright thank you Lance!"


	46. Wärshen

Lance slept on Keith's shoulder the whole plane ride. Stress had taken a toll on his body, bringing a worn aura to his puffy face. They landed in Wärshen in the late evening. It was a long trip, but Lance was glad to be somewhere new—even if he was scared.

_A fresh start._

With a soft jingle of fresh keys, Keith opened the alder front door. "We're here," he chimed in a singsong voice. Leaving the lights off to maintain the still atmosphere, he closed the door behind them with the quiet click of a lock.

Lance stepped inside the dim early morning light of the living room with his bag hanging on his fingers. The sun was just barely under the horizon, casting a glow of soft heather across the stained wood floors. It was a small cabin in the traditional half of Wärshen. Walking in, he was immediately greeted with a great room on the left and a kitchen area on the right. Just before where the cloudy blue couches were was a small step down into the living area. In front of those was a large window wall looking over a town street while still sharing the view with a small part of the ocean. Tiny waves rippled over the surface of the Arctic. Lance felt like he was standing in a fairytale world far away from all the problems he had gone through in his short life. Calm. Peace. A lingering taste of nostalgia for somewhere he'd never been.

Lance breathed out a small "Woah," and stared out the windows.

Keith chuckled and walked up behind him, placing a hand on his lower back and kissing his cheek. "Pretty, right?"

Lance nodded with softly closed eyes, "Mm-hmm." He turned around to place a gentle kiss on his lips and rest their heads together, hanging on his neck. "I wanna stay up and watch the sunrise, but I'm  _so tired._ "

"Yeah," Keith looked past him at the far wall, "Bedroom's through that door." He paused and let out a nervous laugh, "It's only one since I wasn't planning on bringing anyone along."

Lance nodded with tired eyes, "That's okay. I don't mind."  
  


Lance woke up a few times throughout the day, but they both stayed in bed. He awoke for the last time around six a.m. when the sun was still asleep. With a dramatic yawn, he sat up and stretched his back, looking down at the soft breathing of Keith's chest. After a few moments of watching him, Lance leaned down to kiss his cheek before hopping out of bed.

Deciding it was time to familiarize himself with the kitchen, he went there first. A shock of surprise caught him when he saw a basket with a large red bow sitting atop the island counter. He cautiously stepped up to it and examined the contents. Four different kinds of fresh tea leaves, a jar of homemade strawberry jam, Costa Rican chocolate-covered coffee beans, and a candle that smelled of lavender and vanilla. Placed between the jar and chocolate was a small envelope. Lance carefully picked it up and broke the seal. A few bills fell out of the card as he opened it, floating to the ground. He knelt down to retrieve them, then read the fluffy handwriting.

_Welcome neighbor to Wärshen!_   
_We have great food at market down street. Use these money as gift._

A warm smile had crept across his cheeks as he finished. He looked down at the maroon bills. A young girl's face was printed on the right with a gold strip separating her from a rose and the amount on the top left. Rose. That's what the currency is called in Wärshen.

Lance picked out one of the teas and found a kettle in one of the sparse cabinets. As the water boiled, the bright glow of the sun caught his eye. His feet pattered the wood as he trotted over to the window to stare out at the beautiful country. People were already out walking down the street and talking to each other with baskets in hand. They were all very pale and had white-ish hair in different tones. Although, some people were Japanese. Recently, Wärshen and Japan created an alliance of sorts, so they shared citizenship with their people. Lance placed his hand on the glass and watched them. A group of teenagers passed by in their navy uniforms. They didn't seem to hold gender stereotypes, as everyone wore skirts. On every crease was a pin—all different, but Lance was too far away to see. He assumed it had to do with their families, as social status is an important factor in someone's rights.

When the kettle screamed, Lance broke away from the window and helped himself to the tea. Keith was still asleep by the time he was dressed; so Lance decided to slip on his white swing coat and heels. He hung the basket they received on his elbow and stepped outside.

It was much colder than America, but warm for being above Russia. August was the beginning of fall for them; the trees had already turned and the wind had picked up. Lance shivered a little and started up the road. He stood out among the others since he was neither Asian nor pale white; but they didn't seem to care. Most people just minded their own business, but the ones who noticed would wave and smile.

Lance was suddenly aware that there were two official languages of Wärshen: Japanese and Oieshan. Lance knew neither of those. He stopped on the sidewalk and debated whether or not he should turn back.

「すみません。」

Lance heard a woman's voice beside him, bringing his attention to her.

She was a little shorter than him with pale skin and yellowish-white hair. She wore a military green school uniform with the same array of pins at the bottom of each fold of her skirt. "You are American?" Her accent was strange and really thick. She spoke in choppy English with a shy smile.

"Yes," Lance turned to face her completely and nodded. He decided it was best to speak slower than normal. "I don't speak your languages."

She gave him a small laugh and fiddled with her sleeves, pulling them down over her palms. "I am named Chernobyl Foxfurr. I'm learning English, but it's no good."

Lance smiled at her. She was obviously very nervous about speaking English, but excited to find a native. He held up two fingers, "I speak English and Spanish. I was born in Cuba." He gave a small bow, "My name is Lance McClain."

It felt very strange to use his real name when introducing himself. It was foreign on his own tongue—a different language in and of itself.

Chernobyl returned the bow, "Nice to meet you." When she stood upright, her eyes caught the basket on his arm. She pointed at it. "You are going to market?"

Lance nodded, "Yes."

Chernobyl immediately perked up, "I can help? My older people don't speak much English." She calmly glanced across the street at a group of gang members in complete normalcy, "And our food is very strange to you."

The chilly sea breeze ran over his skin as he gave her a wide smile. America & Wärshen relations were very tense, so all he had ever heard were horror stories about the gangs that ran the country. Older women would gossip about the murders and prostitutes over their morning coffees like it was some movie they wouldn't let their kids watch. Churchgoers would give condescending sermons about the sexuality and non-binary gender acceptance, making false accusations about things they were ignorant to. But as Lance watched three men with tattoos and guns strapped to their hips feed homeless cats cans of tuna, he knew that they had all been so hopelessly wrong.

Lance gave Chernobyl a gracious nod, "That would be very nice."


	47. Pain

Lance's hips were forced into the sharp corner of the desk, bruising the soft skin and bone. His lungs tore at his throat with every strained breath while his head was yanked back by his hair. In a tear-filled voice, he cried out for mercy. "Please stop! It hurts!"

Peter just thrust harder into him, ignoring all of his pleas. He used the hand that wasn't balled in his hair to hold down his lower back. Deep grunts sounded from behind him as Peter continued his relentless torture.

"Peter! It hur—!" Lance was lifted up and flipped over, dropped onto his back on the desk. He didn't want to see. He didn't want to watch. Clamping his eyes shut, he covered his face and yelped at the different sensations of being on his back.

Peter's callused hands gripped the lace of Lance's tights and yanked his body toward him with every thrust. "Move your arms," he spoke in a disgusting grizzly voice, "I want to see you."

"Stop!" Lance's cheeks were drenched and his throat was sore. "It hurts! Please!"

Peter let go of his legs to rip his arms away from his eyes, pinning him to the table. "It's okay, baby." Lance peeked through his lashes as Peter gave him a lustful smirk. He took that chance to thrust way too hard, "We're just having fun."

Lance bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood as he cried through the pain.

Peter let go of his arms to return to his thighs. His voice went deep and evil, "Do you  _want_ me to get angry?"

Lance hugged his knees tighter as he returned from his muddy head. His lungs convulsed as he sat and stared at nothing. Three a.m. was supposed to be a time to sleep, but tonight was hard, leaving him sitting on the kitchen floor in Keith's shirt fighting his hyperventilation. Lance told himself over and over that he was fine. That he wasn't with Peter anymore. That no one was hurting him, and he was safe.

Lance reminded himself that Keith was sleeping soundly in the bedroom, and he couldn't wake him. He would just worry. Lance let out a breath and rested his chin onto his knees.  _I haven't had flashbacks since..._  He stopped to process his realization.  _Since...I started going out with Shiro._

Tears clawed at his eyes and ran down his cheeks.  _Shiro._ Pitiful whimpers escaped his throat.  _Shiro always knew how to keep me calm. He always made me feel safe._ Lance's head ached as he cried harder.  _Does Keith make me feel unsafe?_ He crossed his arms over his knees and hid his face. Tears soaked into his sleeves as he sobbed.

"Hey," Keith's voice cut through the dark night air.

Lance's head snapped up and met his eyes in silence.

Keith's face softened and he sat down next to him, placing a hand on his leg. "What's wrong?"

Lance stared at him for a while as he gathered his words. When the shock wore off, his face scrunched up as he let out a pitiful sob. "I had a flashback."

Keith wrapped his arms around him and tucked him into his bare chest. "Oh baby, you're okay now."

Lance clung to the warmth of his skin, "Sorry for waking you up."

Keith held him tighter and kissed his hair, "Don't be sorry. I want to be here for you." He pulled back to cup his cheek and look into his eyes, "All the time."

Lance gave him a small nod and returned to his chest, nuzzling his head into his neck. "Can you carry me back to bed?"

Keith's chest resonated with a deep chuckle, "Of course." With a soft kiss on his head, he lifted him up and returned them to the comfort of the bedroom.

Lance wrapped himself up in the fluffy blankets and cuddled up to Keith. "Sorry."

"For what?" Keith lied down and stroked his cheek with the back of his fingers. "You didn't do anything wrong." He left a soft kiss on his forehead, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

After taking a moment to think it over, he replied with a small "No." Lance threaded his legs into Keith's and closed his eyes, "I just want to sleep. I'm okay now."

"Okay," Keith pet his hair and closed his eyes, returning to his own slumber.

 _I don't...feel safe._ Lance sighed and rubbed his sore eyes.  _I just need time. It will come. Keith's here and he loves me. I'll be okay._ He nuzzled into his chest and let himself drift off.  _Yeah. I just need time._


	48. Ruins

Allura stared at herself in her vanity mirror picking out any flaws in her appearance that she needed to fix. Two hours formed a look of perfection that she had been taught to show off. Everything about her was perfect. Her body was thin and her skin smooth. Her hair was silky and cut at her neck, curling up and framing her perky cheekbones and prominent jawline. Her room was decorated in powder pink and pure white. Every object had a place and must be put away before she left to start her day. It was routine. Just like everyone else.

Allura swept her thumb across the crease of her bottom lip as she passed by her mirror before leaving her room. She tugged on her Michael Kors winter coat and slipped her feet into her brown boots.

"Where is he?" Allura crossed her arms over her stomach and rested one leg. Concern was littered across her British accent as she stood beside Cinnamon in the lobby of the orphanage.

Cinnamon's eyes fell slightly before he pointed at the stairs, "He's been in his room the entire time."

Allura chewed on her lip as she stared at the wooden railing leading up to the second floor. "Has he eaten?"

"Hmm," Cinnamon returned to sweeping, "I don't know."

Allura kept her eyes on the stairs, "Prepare a plate of breakfast." She walked away before he could respond, drifting up to the second floor.

_The fork clattered loudly as it crashed to the ground, settling into a position on the wood. Shiro started down at it without any emotion on his young face, "Oops."_

_Allura sighed and knelt down to pick it up and place it in the sink. She pulled open the silverware drawer and retrieved another, setting it down on his napkin next to his plate. "It's okay. Just try not to drop this one."_

_Shiro picked up the fork with weak, shaky hands and continued to struggle as he ate the cut-up pieces of steak. He smelled better after taking a shower and borrowing some of her brother's clean clothes. His skin was still littered with dirt stains, but at least he was safe and warm. Living on the streets as a child wasn't the healthiest lifestyle._

_"Hey," Allura pulled out her homework from her Hello Kitty backpack and sat down next to him at the dining table. "You should just stay here. We have a lot of rooms."_

_Shiro took his time to chew his piece of steak before carefully returning the fork to his napkin. He always spoke in such a low and wimpy voice, unlike the men in Allura's life. "I don't wanna be a burden."_

_"You're not," Allura continued her times tables work. "My parents like you and want you here than on the street."_

_Shiro fiddled with his hands in his lap as he hung his head, "But...I'm dirty and you have such a nice house."_

_Allura pushed his arm with the eraser of her pencil, "Not anymore."_

"Shiro?" Allura knocked on the door again with the same gentle taps. She waited for a response, but it never came. Rolling her eyes, she retrieved her key ring from her purse and unlocked the door to let herself in.

The room was dark and the air was heavy and recycled way too many times. She scrunched up her nose at the uncomfortable feeling it gave her and walked over to the giant bed. Much to her surprise, his room was actually really cleanâ€”cleaner than it had ever been. A flame of annoyance clawed at her chest as she glared at the lump in the sheets. "Shiro?"

He didn't answer. Not a word or even a small movement.

Allura huffed and rolled her eyes, stomping over to the window and yanking the blinds open. The morning light lit up the dreary atmosphere and emitted a groan from the bed. She turned around and called to him in singsong. "Shiro! Get the fuck up~!"

Shiro pulled the blankets over his head and whined, "No. Leave me alone."

"Shiro," Allura's voice hardened, "Get up!" She clamped the comforter in her fists and yanked it off the bed completely, letting it pile on the floor. "Come on, you can't stay in that bed forever." She checked her watch out of habit without actually reading the time. "It's already been a week. You need to do your job. I shouldn't have to drag your sorry ass out of bed."

Shiro took hold of the thin sheet next to him and wrapped himself in it. "No." He burrowed his head between the pillows. "Now go away and leave my sorry ass be."

"You're being a baby." Allura crossed her arms in disappointment.

"Yes I am," Shiro's voice was muffled by the cloth.

"Pathetic."

"Yup."

Allura clicked her teeth and gave his body a condescending glare. "Disgusting."

_"But what do I do after this?" Shiro motioned to the paper with a frustrated expression._

_Allura leaned over and rested her elbow on the dining table. "Oh," she pointed to the numbers, "Remember that you have to work backwards. So you've gotta divide that by four now to cancel it."_

_Shiro glared at the markings for a second before scribbling in the rest of the work. When he finished he tapped the worksheet with his eraser. "Like this?"_

_Allura nodded, "Yeah. See?" She returned to her own work. "Easy."_

"Get up. Now." Allura stayed put. "What do you think Lance would say if he saw you like this?"

Shiro threw the sheet off his torso and bolted upright, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Do you think he wants to come back to a bum?" Allura tapped her foot in annoyance.

Shiro hesitantly shook his head and lowered his eyes. "No," he spoke in a pitiful near-whisper, "No he wouldn't." He finally got up from the bed and walked into his bathroom, yanking his shirt off. Allura sighed and followed him. She leaned against the doorframe as he turned the shower on and undressed.

"Hey Shiro?" Allura furrowed her brows and locked her ankles.

"Yeah?" Shiro checked the water with his hand before stepping in the shower.

Allura had trouble forming the questions she wanted to ask. There was so much she knew, yet so much that she didn't. "Do you really think he will come back?"

Shiro didn't answer for a few moments. With the click of a soap bottle, he finally spoke. "Yes." Shiro kept it simple and blunt. "He will. I know he will."

_Lance released his hold on Shiro and knelt down to pick up his bag. He forced his legs to walk back. Keeping his eyes on Shiro until he left, he stopped at the doorway. "I'll come back to you."_

"He's coming back."  
  
  
  


"Here's the messages from Lotor and Kolivan." Allura handed him a folder as she kept up with his pace through the halls.

Shiro took it from her and continued down the stairs. "I'll follow up with them." His face stayed cold. "It's time we took up more jobs."

"I agree." Allura gave him a proud smile as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs. She turned to stand in front of him and let out a happy sigh. Brushing off his shoulder and adjusting his jacket, she praised him again. "It's great to have you back, Takashi."


	49. Therefore, You and Me

Lance took a deep breath with his eyes gently closed and his lips parted. Slow and deliberate. He absorbed the feeling of his lungs expanding and stretching as the air cooled his teeth. With one more breath, he finally opened his eyes and stared at himself in the mirror. His skin had become dull and his hair had lost its shine, shifting from a smooth caramel to a matte burnt umber. _Hmm._ He reached up and pinched a few strands between his fingertips. _The shampoo must have stopped working._ As he fiddled with his hair, he noticed marks between the notches of his finger joints. He lowered it back down to stare at the marks. _Did I bite down on them?_ With a sigh, he looked back at the mirror to examine his ribs and hipbones. As morbid as it was, it always gave him a sense of satisfaction to feel his skin fight against the jutting bones. More than normal now that he was in WÃ¤rshen.

"Lance?"

Lance looked at the closed bedroom door where Keith's voice had muffled. _He must be ready._

Keith knocked on the door a couple times, emitting a small jump from Lance. "Hey, are you almost done?"

He turned back to the mirror and called back. "Give me a minute. I'm almost ready."

"Okay." Keith's voice sounded concerned, but his boots receded to the living room.

Lance sighed and returned to the bathroom, retrieving a small bit of coconut oil to fluff his hair with. _This should give it a little bit of shine._ Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he returned to the bedroom and sifted through the closet. As he instinctively reached for his fluffy white sweater, he stopped and questioned his actions. Keith had mentioned that he liked the way he looked in masculine clothes. Lance pulled his hand back and glanced toward the door. _Is that what I should wear?_

His eyes were drawn back to the sweater and remained locked on. After a few seconds of mindless staring, he yanked it off the hanger and slipped it over his head, positioning it comfortably over his black skirt. Slipping his black-tight-covered feet into dark brown boots, he retrieved his beige Lolita swing coat and slipped it on.

Keith was looking out the living room window when he walked out. He turned around to acknowledge him with a wide smile. "That's pretty."

Lance looked down at the skirt of the coat and used his bandaged hand to move his hair out of his eyes. A warm look spread across his face. "White packed everything for me." He ran his hand over the fabric. "I really like this one."

Keith gave him a pained smile, then walked over to offer his arm. "Shall we?"

Lance nodded and held onto his bicep with a gentle hand.

They headed out and wandered down the sidewalks in the evening light. Nighttime in WÃ¤rshen was accompanied by a gentle bustle of people shopping or having coffee. The country was twice as cold as America, even if it was only autumn, but Lance enjoyed it. It meant he could wear cute winter clothes more often.

"Smell this one," Lance offered a pastel pink candle to Keith. The shop was petite and comfy, warmed with the collective smells of different candles.

Keith leaned over to sniff it, then nodded. "Smells like coffee."

"Like a caramel macchiato," Lance agreed, smelling it one more time before returning it to the shelf.

Keith rotated and scanned the shop, "Is there one you like?"

Lance felt a warm smile tug on his lips as he carefully lifted a coffee cake scented candle from the shelf. He cradled I'm in his hands and spoke facing away. "This one."

Keith looked back at him, "How much is it?"

Lance gently closed his eyes and took in the scent of it. "R3.5" [A/N: This is pronounced three point five Rose. The R is the Rose symbol. Also, for reference, R1 is ~$5]

"Get it then." Keith stuffed his hands in his pockets and rested one leg. "Whatever you want."

"Ooh!" Lance skipped ahead of Keith as they continued their night out. He excitedly pointed out another shop, rattling his diamond bracelet. "Can we get Thai rolled ice cream?!"

Keith gave him a gentle laugh and nodded, "If you like."

Lance watched in childlike wonder as the ice cream was scrapped into a roll and decorated with colorful toppings. "Keith! Look!" He tapped on the glass with his fingernail. "It's so pretty!"

Keith's eyes went even softer than they already were as he gazed at Lance. "You're prettier."

A blush puffed up on Lance's face. He raised his shoulders in an attempt to hide it. "Youâ€”you can't juâ€”!" He shook the embarrassment from his head and put on a straight face. "You're ridiculous."

Keith stroked his arm and kissed his cheeks with a laugh. "They don't care." He accepted his ice cream with a humble [Thank you very much!] and handed Lance his. "WÃ¤rshen is the country of love."

"In your dreams." Lance giggled and skipped over to one of the wooden tables by the fireplace. He pulled his phone out and set up his spot for a picture. "WÃ¤rshen is the country of gangs and rain."

Keith chuckled and reached over to scrape the whipped cream off Lance's cup, immediately bringing his spoon to his mouth and enjoying his stolen sweets.

"Hey!" Lance smacked his hand in playful anger. "You're so mean!"

"Baby," Keith stuck his tongue out at him.

Lance gave up and put his phone back in his coat pocket. As he slid it away, the glint from his bracelet caught his eye. He fanned out his fingers and stared down at his wrist. The elegant diamonds complimented his tawny skin and manicured nails. Such a lovely work of art.

"Lance? Are you okay?"

"What?" Lance's attention snapped back to reality. "Oh," he laughed and picked up his spoon to dig into the ice cream, "Yeah, it's nothing."


	50. Script

**This chapter involves an explicit sexual scene between an adult and a minor. This in no way reflects Kitty's personal values. Read at your own discretion.**

Lance carried his boots as he tiptoed in his socks through the moonlight in the house. He crept up to the front door and checked behind him before unlocking it and stepping outside. It was then that he put on his shoes and brushed off his coat. WÃ¤rshen was lively at night as most stores stayed open all the time. Lance kept his head down and walked through the sidewalks, glancing in store windows or kicking up the fallen leaves.

Lance took a deep breath of the stinging cold air and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He knew it was strange to sneak out at three a.m, but he needed to get out of the house and be alone for a while. It had been a month since they had arrived in WÃ¤rshen, and things hadn't gotten any easier. Lance found himself questioning everything that he did and every thought that he had. No matter what he did, he still felt... Lance sighed. _Lonely._ He had never felt as lonely as he did during his time with Keith. In times like this, Lance couldn't help but doubt his decision. Would it have been better if he had stayed?

_"Charming! Quick!" Shiro burst through the front doors cradling his bare hands to his chest. His boots tracked in snow as he hurried inside. "Come here!"_

_Lance launched himself out of his chair and ran over to him, "What?!" He looked down at Shiro's hands, "What is it?!"_

_"Grab a towel." Shiro kept the object hidden and tucked into his winter coat. "Quick."_

_Lance sprinted back and retrieved a bath towel, holding it up to take whatever Shiro was holding._

_Finally, he gave in and carefully set it into Lance's hands. A puppy. A weak, broken, and bloody puppy. Lance wrapped the towel around it and hugged it to his chest with care. His heart sank and his eyes went wide. "White, where did you find him?"_

_Shiro tugged on his hair and paced back and forth. His anxiety and panic were taking over his body. "It was on the side of the road. I justâ€”I couldn't just leave it out there inâ€”there in the snow and cold!"_

_"Shh," Lance gently pet the dog's head with the back of his fingers. "You did the right thing." He looked over to the fireplace and headed toward it. "Go to the kitchen and get a warm wet towel."_

_"Okay," Shiro nodded and skipped back, rushing into the kitchen._

_Lance knelt down and sat on his knees in front of the fire. As carefully as he cradled him, Lance unwrapped the towel to assess the puppy's injuries. The blood had stemmed from a huge gash on its leg. It's breathing was labored and it didn't have the strength to move any of his body. Lance fought the tears forming in his eyes as he identified the breedâ€”a poodle. A white poodle. He hugged it back to his chest and kissed its cold head. "You're not gonna make it, are you?"_

_Lance's throat tightened as he lulled the dog. "But that's okay, baby. You're safe now." The puppy forced its eyes open so it could look at the one who was holding him. That's when Lance finally broke. "It's okay," his voice was unstable and jumpy as he spoke through his sobs. "It's okay, puppy, you can go." He gently rested his cheek against its head and whispered, "I'll name you Script."_

_Shiro's boots ran up behind him, "I've got it." He handed a damp towel to Lance._

_He took it and started wiping the dirt from Script's fur. If he could've gotten his throat to work, he would have said something then. All he could do was watch the puppy's chest struggle to rise and fall._

_Shiro knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, still in a worried panic. "Come on, we can take the car and bring it to the vet!"_

_Lance shook him off and continued to clean its fur. He spoke in a low, somber tone. "He's not gonna make it, White."_

_Shiro shook his head and searched around for anything to help. "Butâ€”but if weâ€”!"_

_"White," Lance wiped his cheeks with a free hand and looked up at him. "Just sit down."_

_Shiro gave in and sat on his knees, watching the dog and wrapping an arm around Lance's shoulder. He kissed Lance's temple and nuzzled their heads together, "I'm so sorry, baby."_

_Lance gently shook his head, "Don't be sorry. I want him to feel loved as he passes, not cold and all alone in the snow."_

_Shiro kissed him again and looked down at the dog, "You should name it."_

_"Script." Lance leaned onto Shiro's shoulder and tossed the damp towel to the side. "His name is Script."_

_"Script," Shiro repeated with a somber chuckle. "I forgot about that."_

_Lance leaned into his chest and let him hug his shoulders, creating a barrier of protection for both him and the dog. As Script took his last breath, Lance and Shiro were by its side weeping for its life._

_That night, Shiro buried Script underneath a pine tree in the yard and held Lance until he cried himself to sleep._

A thumping bass and collective voices caught Lance's attention as he drifted out of his thoughts. He stopped and glanced over to the building adjacent to where he was. A group of people were outside smoking as lights flashed through the crack of the door. Two bouncers stood guard next to them, keeping the line of people waiting to get in calm and orderly. It was a club. A _sex_ club.

The nostalgia of the familiar sounds escaping the blacked-out building brought a pitiful wave of shame over his skin. Lance swallowed hard and stared at them with a clenched jaw and regret in his heart.

Lance took in a shaky breath of the freezing air. _I remember when I met him._

"There," Tiffany stood back to admire her work on Lance's hair. "How do you feel, Ten?"

Lance stared at himself in the dance studio mirror with a strange sense of exhaustion. The can lights above him cast a woman-like appearance on his already feminine body.

Tiffany frowned with a worried look in her eyes, "You don't like it?"

Lance immediately flipped his attitude and spun around to give her a bright smile. He shook his head, "No, that's not it. It's really pretty. Thank you, Tiffany." Lance internally cringed at his high-pitched voice.

"Oh, good!" She fiddled with his outfit. "Are you ready to go out there?"

Lance took one more look at himself in the mirror. His makeup had been done and his chest accentuated. "Yeah...I guess."

Lance was the star of Peter's club. Men from all over come around to watch or take him for a few hours. It wasn't uncommon for Lance to sleep with more than five men a night. This night, however, was different. Almost of the people who came were regulars, but that day a man with snowy hair walked into the club in a leather jacket and thumping boots. As Lance strut around the stage, he kept his eyes on the strange man. He walked with a confident and hostile gait, swaying his broad shoulders like a bull. Usually, that kind of person would scare Lance. But he didn't. Not this time.

He took his time looking around, stopping to glance at every picture and trace his fingertips over the bar counter. Somber and cold were painted on his skin and wore on his eyes. When he finally made it to the stage, he carefully sat down and leaned back in his chair. He sat close but on the side, never putting his hands on the stage or tossing any money. The other customers did that for him. Lance worked hard to get his attention solely on him, performing his best moves and focusing on the man's cloudy grey eyes. Even with that, his demeanor never shifted. He stayed just like that for the duration of the performance.

When he finished, the man finally stood and headed to Peter's office. As Lance stepped off the stage, he mentally prepared himself for spending some time with him. It looked like he would be his second for that night. The only worrying thing about him was the size difference. Lance himself was a mere eighty-nine pounds and the man looked like he was two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle.

"Ten!" Peter's peppy voice called out to him.

Lance spun around to meet the eyes of Peter. He motioned to his side, "This is Kashi. He's a special guest."

The man from before gave him the faintest smile, which was strange on his stone face.

Peter motioned to the back, "Take him to a room."

Lance nodded as he walked away then turned to Kashi. He stroked down his large arm and led him by the wrist. "Nice to meet you." Lance's special room was the last one on the right. Peter chose that one because it was easier for him to get away with sleeping with Lance himself.

Lance held the door open for him and motioned inside, "You can take a seat on the bed."

Kashi gave him a suave nod and headed in, "Alright."

Lance tried to hide the smiling blush on his face as he shut the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, he turned around to face him.

Kashi stared at him with a softer look now that he was away from everyone. It took Lance off-guard for a second but he quickly reciprocated the gentle gaze. It was as if he was studying every inch of his body and keeping him calm at the same time.

Lance bent over and unbuckled his heels, slipping his feet out and stepping onto the worn dark pink carpet. As he did with everyone that he was with, he slowly strut over and crawled up onto his lap. He rubbed the back of Kashi's neck and threaded his fingers into his silky white hair before tugging his leather jacket down off his arms.

Kashi didn't lock eyes with him. Instead he ran his hands over his shoulders and held his waist, following the trail with his stare. After the long silence, he finally spoke. "You're very small."

Lance had heard that many times before, but not like he said it. Usually men would sound excited and eager as if they were looking forward to fucking someone half their size. Kashi, on the other hand, sounded nervous about it. Like he scared that he would break him.

Lance could feel his face heat up. He averted his eyes and turned away, "Yeah, butâ€”I mean, I'm not fragile."

Kashi let out a long breath and reached up to his cheek, directing his eyes back to his own. "Hey," he spoke in a gentle, calming tone, "You sure you're gonna be fine?"

Lance's breath hitched. He opened his mouth to respond, but could only nod. They stared at each other for a moment.

Kashi finally gave in and slowly brought their lips together. His hands were large enough for his fingers to stretch all the way across his back. Different. This time was different for Lance. He wanted to feel this man against him and take in his heat. He wanted to be awake and in the moment the entire time instead of his usual routine of falling back into his head. Most of all, he wanted to know if Kashi felt the same thing or if he was just being a naÃ¯ve fifteen year old.

The man on top of him was not like any of the men he had been with before. He was gentle and clean. Suave. Caring. Kashi used one hand to brace himself up and the other arm to hold Lance up to his chest. Lance clung to his neck and shoulders as he thrust into him. On a normal day, his face was shoved into the mattress with his ass in the air and hair tangled in their fist. But Kashi...loving Kashi hugged him to his chest and kept his movements almost painless.

Kashi panted into his shoulder and flexed his arms. He left a soft kiss on his collarbone and strained a faint plea. "I'm sorry."

Lance gasped and continued to moan loudly. He held onto his neck tighter and attempted to catch his breath. "For what?"

Kashi didn't answer him. He moved his hand up to the back of Lance's neck and cradled his head with care. "For what?" Lance repeated himself thinking that he hadn't heard him. He did. He just refused to answer. Kashi just hid his face in the crook of his neck until their time was up.


	51. Doing Things Wrong

Lance didn't bother being quiet when he came back inside and shut the door. He had seen the lights on. Keith was sitting on the couch, cigarette in hand and his hair up in a messy ponytail. He immediately jumped up and watched Lance kick off his shoes and throw his coat onto the ground. He walked over to the loveseat and brought his legs up to his chest.

"Where the hell were you?" Keith looked angry but he sounded worried.

Lance was silent for a moment. He mashed his lips into his knees and attempted to sort through his messy thoughts. He failed, as usual, and spoke long before he should've. Locking eyes with the frustrated Keith, he finally opened his mouth. "The first time White slept with me...he apologized."

Keith stared at Lance for a long time before speaking. His mouth was hung open and a few ashes from his cigarette hit the ground. When his voice finally escaped his stunned lungs, he screamed. "What the fuck are you talking about?!" He motioned to the bedroom with his cigarette. "It's almost five a.m. and you come home from god knows where and _that's_ the first thing you say to me?!"

Lance didn't react to his shouting. His body didn't know how to. The cold had permeated his skin and that's all he could think aboutâ€”how cold he was. He eyed the blanket on the other couch thinking about when would be the right time to grab it.

"Lance!" Keith slammed his fist down onto the coffee table. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Lance furrowed his brows as he took offense to Keith's attitude. "What?!" He leaned forward and removed his feet from the couch. "What is so fucking bad right now?!"

Keith bit down on his bottom lip as he clenched the muscles in his arms, waving them from his head to Lance as if he was trying to yell at him in his mind. He let out a frustrated groan and sniffed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. "You wanna elaborate on your little shitshow you just dropped on me?!"

Lance took a few breaths and gathered his racing thoughts. "You...everyone keeps acting like it was some kind of rape, but..." Lance's eyes drifted around the room as he replayed that night over and over again. "But it wasn't. And he apologized."

Keith scoffed and shook his head, turning away and locking his fingers behind his neck. "I can'tâ€”I can't deal with this shit right now." He spun back to point at Lance with an exasperated arm motion. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!"

Lance's eyes started to tear up. His body had finally given into the situation. He sniffled, "Why are you yelling at me?"

Keith clenched his jaw, "Where were you?!"

"I was on a walk." Lance kept his voice stern and short even though tears were falling from his eyelashes.

"At four in the fucking morning?"

"Why is that so surprising?" Lance shoved himself off the couch. "We would talk at three or four a.m. all the time. How is this any different?"

"Because you're mine now!" Keith tapped his chest with his fingertips to accentuate his words.

Lance's face contorted into a mixture complete fear and hate. His lips drifted apart as he stepped back toward the bedroom. Those words. They were in the wrong order.

"I'm responsible for you now!" Keith continued to vent his anger.

Lance took a few more steps toward the room. "Keith, have you been drinking?"

"Yeah, I've had a beer! What the fuck does that matter right now?!" Keith shook his head in frustration again. "Do you know how worried I was?!"

"Please stop," All Lance could muster was a weak plea. "Please stop yelling at me."

Something clicked in Keith's brain right then. His eyes widened a little as they cleared. He looked down at his hands as his breathing quickened. All of the anger from a moment ago vanished into fear. Not of Lance. Of himself.

Lance felt his fingertips graze the door frame of the bedroom. He held onto it and stood still to watch the scene play out.

Keith hugged his arms around himself and calmed his tarred lungs. At last, his eyes met Lance's and softened into little balls of lavender cotton. "Oh baby," he quickly walked over to Lance and wrapped his arms around his small frame. "I'm sorry." His hand pet the back of his head as a rocked him back and forth. "I didn't mean to get so angry at you."

Lance didn't hug him back. He had never seen that side of Keith, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Keith sniffled and nuzzled his head into Lance's neck. "I'm so sorry. I was just worried."

"Hey Keith," Lance hesitantly lifted a hand and smoothed his oily black hair, "You need to get some sleep."

_Lance's chest sunk as he walked into his room. Shiro sat in his chair with his head in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. He forced his fingers into his temples as he kept his eyes closed. Lance gently turned around and closed the door, making sure to lock it._

_"Charming?" Shiro's voice acknowledged his presence._

_Lance sighed and drifted over to him, reaching out a hand to cup his cheek. He slowly knelt down to sit on the floor in front of him and crossed his arms over one of Shiro's knees. The room was dark, but his eyes adjusted quickly along with his bare legs on the floor. Sometimes it seemed like the lights were never on. Lance gazed up at him and lied his cheek down on his arms. "What happened?"_

_The whiskey sloshed against the glass as he lifted it back up to his mouth. "Oh," he sighed and rubbed his forehead with his palm. "Just a little frustrated. Lotor's causing trouble with the Rebel Fighters. I had to go up there and sort some things out." He shook his head with his eyes closed. "Ended with someone getting shot in the knee."_

_Lance reached up and took his hand away from his face, bringing it to his own cheek. He kissed his palm and nuzzled into the touch. "But you're okay. You got home safe and now I'm here."_

_Shiro let the bottle_ _fall_ _from his hand and spill a small puddle onto the wood. He dropped down to Lance and brought him into a tight hug. He took in a breath of his hair and held his shoulders. "Yeah," he let out a long content sigh, "I've got you."_

_Lance wrapped his arms around Shiro's waist and curled up in his chest. "Yeah, see?" He smiled and hugged him tighter. "I'm here."_

_Shiro's chest resonated like a deep cello as he let out a happy chuckle and kissed the top of his head. "Oh Charming," he rocked them side to side. "I don't know if you'll ever understand how much I am completely and will only ever be yours."_

_Lance pulled back and held his cheeks. He went to kiss him but instead squeezed them to forcefully pucker Shiro's lips, stifling his playful giggles._

_Shiro yanked his head out of Lance's hands and laughed. "You littleâ€”!" He pushed him back onto the floor and hovered over him. Taking a deep breath, he gazed down at him. "How in the world did a little sixteen year old like you manage to tame an old man like me?"_

_Lance couldn't hide his smile, letting it brighten his cheeks and crinkle his nose. He rested his hands just below his ribs as Shiro was knelt down between his legs. A glint of mischief flashed across his ocean eyes. "By loving you for what you really are."_

_Shiro dropped down to his elbows and pecked his nose. "And what am I?"_

_Lance sounded out every syllable as he replied in a cheeky tone. "A little fluffy kitten."_

Keith kissed his cheek and nodded, "Yeah, we should get some sleep. I'm really tired."

Lance backed away from him and led him by the wrist into the room, directing him to the bed. "Just lie down. I'm gonna get changed."

Keith flopped down onto the pillow with a groan. When Lance walked away, he turned his head to follow with his eyes. "Hey Lance?"

"Hmm?" Lance tossed his shirt into the hamper and unclipped his skirt.

Keith's speech was slurred and loopy. One beer had to be a serious understatement. "How are you so sexy?"

Lance glared at him for a moment before continuing to change into shorts and a tank top. "Just go to bed, Keith."

_Shiro used his fingertips to move Lance's hair from his eyes. With a joyful breath, he laid his ear onto his chest. "Mmm...I'm gonna marry you one day."_


	52. The Past

Pidge punched the keys of her laptop with her fingers as she typed away, searching through records trying to find any lead. Her sighs arose periodically along with another click of her mouse. How the hell was she supposed to research someone she didn't even know the name of? Was that even possible?

_"If anyone can do it, I know you can."_

Pidge let out another annoyed sigh and scrolled down another page. Why was she even doing this? Would that bring him back? No. Of course not. So why? Maybe he would love her again. The thought caught her off guard. Did he ever actually love her? Was she a sister or just a chore?

Pidge shook her head to clear her mind and skimmed over another news article. That's when something caught her eye. She paused and read the headline over and over again.

_Missing five year old girl presumed dead._

Pidge tried to tear her eyes away. There's a lot of little children that go missing all the time. How was this one different? But she couldn't shake the feeling that she had found what she was looking for. _It wouldn't hurt to just read it._

With every sentence the story started to piece itself together. Things would fit together so nicely if this was who she was looking for. Pidge looked up another article about the little girl and scrolled down to see her picture.

"Holy shit," Pidge breathed out a faint whisper of surprise.

The eyes. Those beautiful, calming eyes that she had seen for so long stared back at her. This was it. It was this child.

Pidge finally had a lead. She immediately took to any medical databases she could find and searched. There were so many with the same name. But only one with the same name and birthdate. A single little girl with the prettiest name and fitting birthday. She finally found it.

"Holy fucking shit." Pidge stared at the two names on the birth certificate and matched them with the article. Once it was confirmed, she went through any and all records she could. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Where are you?"

And with one last click, she found her answer. It had taken almost a year, but she finally found them. A wave of satisfaction washed over her until she read the addresses.

The first one? _Correctional BarÃ³ COR ConsolaciÃ³n del Sur._

And the second? _Lea, Northern WÃ¤rshen._

Pidge clicked her teeth in annoyance and crossed her arms, "Just my fucking luck."

She stared down at her feet and sorted through everything she had read. All that work and there wasn't anything to help her. Sure, she had found the answer; but what was the point if it didn't bring him home? That same layer of disdain soaked into her clothes and wore down on her shoulders. _Should I...even tell him?_

Pidge glanced over at her phone lying face-down on the bar counter. _Would he even answer?_

When she started her search, it was ten p.m. Now the hands on the clock displayed a disheartening three-seventeen. Her eyes returned to her phone and glared down at it. There had been nothing for the entirety of his disappearance. He didn't even say goodbye. And now, almost two months later, she had the urge to call him after all this time. Never before had she even thought about it.

Pidge leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling. _He asked me to find them a year and a half ago._

She took in a long deep breath to stretch her exhausted lungs, letting it out as slow as she possibly could. When they were empty, she sat up and picked up her phone. _This isn't about me. I have to call him._  
  
  
  


Lance jerked awake to his phone violently vibrating on the end table. He reached over to pick it up before it woke Keith. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he read the caller ID. As it clicked in his head, he almost dropped his phone. Lance threw the blankets off and hurried out of the room to answer it. His breathing had quickened and irritated his scratchy throat. "Gigabyte?"

The other line was silent for a long time before he finally heard the voice he had missed. _"A year or so ago...you asked me to look into your past."_

Lance waited for an elaboration, but didn't get it. He thought back on that day as he gathered the strength to answer. "Yeah?"

Gigabyte sighed and took another moment to calm down. As she finally spoke, Lance's heart crawled up his throat and dove into his stomach.

_"I found them, Charming."_


	53. Origin

Lance stared at the ceiling as he lied in bed. Gigabyte had found them. She _actually_ found them. Eighteen years and no memory of the time with them. What should he even say? When should he go? What should he wear?

The clanking of pots in the kitchen caught his attention. They rang through the morning light followed by Keith's annoyed scoffs. He didn't enjoy cooking at all, but he tried to make breakfast for Lance as often as he could. Since their fight, things had been strange. That's what happens to everybody, though. Right? They argue and get angry at each other, but in the end, they still wake up together.

At least, that's what Keith had told him. Lance didn't fight with Shiro that often, but when they did it was intense.

_Shiro slammed his fist into the wall at the other end of the room and breathed through clenched teeth._

_Lance snatched the perfume bottle from the vanity and screamed, "Did you forget what he did to me?!" The glass shattered across the wood floor, splattering perfume on their feet._

_"Did you forget what I've done for you?!" White hit the wall again, then turned and walked up to him. "You think I'll ruin business because you can't handle it?! Grow up!"_

_Tears streamed down his face as he hugged his arms around himself, balling up Shiro's shirt in his fists. "When did this become about business?! You're my boyfriend! My lover!"_

_Shiro stepped toward him, "Then I'm sorry, but I don't understand!"_

_Lance stomped to the other side of the room and wiped his cheeks with his wrist. "Because you can't!" A sob escaped his throat as the memories of the brothel flooded back. "I don't think you could ever understand!"_

_"Just tell me! You're not telling me everything!" Shiro walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder._

_Lance slapped his arm away and spun around to face him. "Don't touch me!" He angrily jabbed a finger at him. "Don't you dare touch me right now!"_

_"Are you gonna do this every time something doesn't go your way?!" Shiro tugged at his hair in confusion and frustration. "Just throw a tantrum and push me away?!"_

_Lance's mind stopped in shock. The world paused for a long moment as he took in the words Shiro had said. When they finally registered, time returned to its normal one hundred miles an hour. Lance swung his arm back and slapped him hard, breaking skin with his manicure nails. For a moment, just a moment, they stared at each other in both anger and surprise._

_As Lance's tears started to return, he began to speak in a pitiful near-whisper. "That man raped me every day for four years."_

_Shiro's face contorted into a twisted shock. His eyes widened and began to shimmer as he tried to speak._

_Lance gulped and continued, "Every single day." He paused to cringe at the recollection of suppressed pain. "He...he forced me down on his desk and tore off any clothes I had on."_

_Shiro's body cracked under the reveal. All the guilt he failed to consider coated his skin and clogged his pores. It tore at his throat and crawled out his eyes. He took a step back and clutched his shirt._

_Lance stepped forward and pulled his hands up to his chest. "He raped me every fucking day. Fucked me till I cried. Till I passed out. It didn't matter. He didn't care." More tears fell from his eyelashes. "He got off on me screaming for him to stopâ€”that it hurtâ€”begging for mercy."_

_Shiro clamped his eyes shut and shook his head, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"_

_Lance looked down at the floor and fiddled with his toes. "I didn't...I didn't want you to reject me because I was dirty."_

_"Oh, baby." Shiro snatched Lance up in his arms and held him as tight as he could. "Never. I'd never do that."_

Keith slipped into the bedroom, hanging in the doorframe. "Hey do you want eggs or french toast?"

Lance scoffed in amusement and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Honey tea and strawberry jelly toast."

Keith sighed and headed back to the kitchen. "But you have that all the time."

Lance let him return to breakfast as he continued to stare up at the ceiling. His lips gently parted and let out a warm breath. The bed felt a million times more comfortable than it did a few seconds ago. He wanted to stay and lie there until he died.

But there was something he had to do first.

Lance sat up with a groan and swung his feet over the edge of his bed. His head was still frantic and muddled as he stood and drifted into the kitchen. Keith was spreading jelly onto a piece of toast and glanced up when he entered the room. He flashed a gentle smile, "Hey baby."

Lance forced a smile and fiddled with Keith's black sweater that was draped over his shoulders. "Hey...can you come here for a minute?"

A glint of concern flashed in his eyes as he slowly set down the butter knife. "Is everything okay?"

Lance opened his mouth to answer, but couldn't find the words. Instead he nodded and motioned for him to sit down on the couch.

Keith handed him the mug of honey tea and sat down on the other couch. Curiosity and worry was painted on his glowing skin, dotted into his freckles and dirty fingernails.

Lance took a sip of the tea then cradled it in his hands, resting it on his bare thighs. It took a few moments of staring down at the bottom of the cup before he even had any courage to speak. He took a slow breath with closed eyes and finally began. "A little less than a year after I came to Voltron, I asked Gigabyte to look into my past."

Keith's expression didn't change, only hardened as he leaned his elbows on his knees.

"I...I just wanted to know." Lance lifted his eyes to meet Keith's. "And...she..."

Keith furrowed his brows even more and leaned forward, "And what?"

Lance's breath became shaky, unsure if he actually wanted to say it out loud. "I...she..." he sighed and looked down at his tea again. "She...tracked down my parents."

Keith was silent for a long time. His body remained completely still as his mind processed the information it had received. "Whaâ€”what didâ€”you...I don'tâ€”" he sat back and rubbed his face with shaky hands. "Where?"

"What?" Lance was relieved he finally spoke.

"Where do they live? Where are they?" Keith's jaw tightened and his eyes hardened.

"Well..." Lance averted his eyes to avoid his intense gaze. "My mother...she's in a correctional facility in Cuba." He shook his head. "I don't know what for."

Keith scoffed and muttered, "Fucking bitch deserved it." He took a deep breath and clasped his hands together. "What about your father?"

"That's..." Lance slid his finger over the rim of his mug, watching the liquid slosh and ripple. "My father...lives in the city."

"Havana?" Keith continued to retain even more confusion.

Lance shook his head again, "No...um..." He swallowed his anxiety and forced the words out of his burnt-out lungs. "This city. North."

"North...?"

"WÃ¤rshen." Lance locked eyes with him. "In Lea, northern WÃ¤rshen."

Keith attempted to wrap his mind around what he had said. "But whatâ€”I mean, why do you care?" His voice was panicked and full of hatred. "Why are you telling me this?"

Lance looked down at his feet and took another deep breath. He kept his eyes closed and voice sheepish as he answered. "Because I want to go see him."


	54. Birthday

Lance gripped his keys tighter in his hand and took a shaky deep breath. His heart screamed against his ribs and shook his hands. Every cell in his body told him not to get out of the car. They begged for him to start it back up and return home. His mind, however, told him differently. There was still a tiny light of hope somewhere in him that everything was going to be okay.

Maybe it will. Maybe it won't.

_Keith jumped up from the couch and yelled, "Are you serious right now?!" His voice had once again become filled with exhausted hatred. "They sold you! They gave you up to be raped your entire life! Why the hell would you want to meet them?!"_

_Lance gulped down his anger and slowly stood up to glare at him. "My mother sold me. I don't know what my father had to do with it."_

_"Does it matter?!" Keith got closer to his face and raised his voice. "Do you really think that he had absolutely nothing to do with it?!"_

_"Maybe I want to find out!" Lance finally snapped and struck back with harsh words. "Maybe he didn't even know she sold me! I don't care! I want to know!"_

_Keith swallowed hard and lowered his tone, clenching his jaw and furrowing his brows. He got closer and spoke in a near-whisper. "What makes you think that he even wants to see you? Because...in case you haven't noticed, you're not the same person you were before you left."_

_Lance didn't understand what he meant at first. A flash of confusion ran across his face for only a moment until it finally clicked. "Are you..." he averted his eyes and leaned away. "Are you talking about the fact that I'm trans?"_

_Keith opened his mouth to answer, but struggled with the words. "Well," he chuckled, "I mean, Lance, did you really think that wouldn't matter?"_

_Lance stared in shocked silence at his smug response and haughty attitude. When things like this happened, he never really knew what to say. There was only one thing he could._

_"Lance?" Keith tried to meet his stare._

_In one quick motion, Lance swung his arm back and slapped Keith's face as hard as he could. As he reached up to hold his stinging cheek, Lance spat out a snappy "White would've taken me." and locked himself in the bedroom to get ready._

The sound of a child laughing caught his attention. A little girl with long white hair trotted around the snowy yard. With a stick in hand and bundled up in a puffy violet coat, she played with a large husky. The house was a cozy brown and beige with a flickering glow emitting from the window. The sky was overcast like it always was, but today no more snow fell from the clouds.

Lance had kept this secret to himself for nearly two months. Gigabyte called him and said she found his parents, but he didn't know what to tell Keith. It took a long time to work up the courage to even say anything. Now that he sat in a car in front of his father's house, Keith's words flooded back in his mind. He had cried most of the way there because of them. It wasn't something he was proud of, but he knew he had to go. Even if Keith didn't care enough to be there with him.

Lance opened the car door and stepped out into the snow. His heeled boots stamped imprints into the street as he slowly started toward the porch. The girl that was playing in the yard before turned to notice him and ran up to the house calling in a language he didn't understand. Probably Oieshan since it sounded more muffled than Japanese. Two voices called back to her while she shut the door behind her.

Lance stopped for a moment to question whether he should wait for them to come out or knock on the door himself. _Maybe knocking would be more polite._ He continued up the stairs and reached the front door. When he slowly lifted his hand, it opened itself and the little girl hopped out.

She looked surprised for a minute to see someone who was definitely foreign. Lance was shocked to see someone with normal snowy hair and tanned skin. Mixed.

Her face lit up as she bowed, "Hello!" She looked back up at him, "I'm Veronica."

"Oh," Lance repeated her bow, "You speak English?"

"Mm-hmm!" She nodded. "My daddy taught me."

"Veronica," a woman walked up behind her and spoke again in that strange language. When she noticed Lance she stopped and bowed then turned back to the house, "Mateo!"

Veronica imitated her with a, "Papa!"

Lance felt a sudden wave of nausea overtake his body as he realized that the name he had heard was his father's. His voice was gentle and calming, rolling off his tongue and resonating like a deep cello. Ever so slowly, he appeared into view. Carmel hair and milky chocolate skin wrapped his thin frame in a model-like cover of what Lance could've never imagined his father to look like.

Mateo hugged Veronica and looked up to the woman, listening to her speak then following her finger to Lance. The smile he had fell as he inspected Lance's matching appearance. He kept his eyes on him as he spoke to the woman and let go of Veronica.

He left them in the house as he grabbed his coat and slipped his boots on then stepped out onto the porch. "Hello," he bowed in greeting, "How can I help you?"

At that moment, everything Lance had planned on saying was wiped from his memory. His lips quivered as he tried to think of anything and keep himself from bursting into tears.

Mateo tilted his head in confusion, "You're Cuban, right? Do you speak English?"

"Um," Lance choked down his anxiety and clasped his shaky hands over his stomach. His lungs moved on their own as they finally began to speak. "Eighteen years ago, a little girl was born. She was very sick and almost didn't make it."

Mateo's face slowly contorted into a fading realization.

Lance lifted his eyes and continued, "When she was five, she went missing. The police told her parents that she was dead."

Mateo opened his mouth to speak, but Lance interrupted.

"Her name was Lucy, right?"

"How..." Mateo slowly shook his head in disbelief. "Who...are you? And how—how do you know about my daughter?"

Lance could feel his eyes fill, "My..." He lifted his hands to his chest, "My name is Lance, but...when I was born..." he ran his tongue over his dried-out lips, "When I was born...my name was Lucy."

Lance took a trembling breath, "Lucy McClain."


	55. Ten & Kashi

Shiro let his paintbrush glide across the canvas, spreading smooth tawny strokes into the skin he created. The sunlight lit up the room between the drawn curtains, illuminating the dust particles that saturated the air. Snow covered the ground outside, but the day was nice and the sun shone down. The studio was the quietest place in the orphanage—rarely used but cherished as much as gold.

Lance decorated it just for him. He had found one of Shiro's sketchbooks and fawned over the paintings. After obsessively begging King for a private room, he created a grand art studio to surprise Shiro on his birthday. Nowadays, it housed company much more often. It was the one place Shiro felt closer to Lance.

Shiro lowered his brush and looked over the picture he had recollected from the years passed. As he fixed one of his lines, the door to the studio opened and a familiar voice called out to him in a smooth chirp.

"Ooh! That's pretty!" Allura pranced up to his side and crossed her arms to relax and admire his creation.

Shiro glanced over at her and set his brush and palette down on the table beside him. "Thank you."

Allura let out a hum of content and kept her eyes on the painting. "Is this what you do in here all the time?"

Shiro's face lit up as he joined her to inspect his work. "Yup. This one's taken me about a week and a half."

She swayed and leaned her head onto his shoulder, keeping her arms crossed.  "When was this?"

Shiro crossed his own arms, "After that first night."

Allura's cheeks brightened as she gently closed her eyes and lifted her head. "I love it."

The large canvas was stretched out with a painting of a gentle young Lance staring with playful closed eyes. An oversized grey shirt draped off his shoulder and hid his curves as he smiled. They both remembered the first night they spent together in the orphanage in vivid detail.

Shiro gulped down his heartbreak, "He was so small." He shook his head in disapproval. "So young."

"So beautiful." Allura patted his shoulder and admired the picture in comfortable silence.  
  
  
  


  
Lance stared at the back of Cinnamon's head as he lied in the bed beside his. The boys were assigned a place to sleep within the two rows of plain beds. The starry night sky cast an illuminating glow into the room, filtering through the sheer curtains onto the bedsheets. Everyone else had long since fallen asleep. Everyone except for Lance. He wanted to, but his body felt foreign and his presence unwanted. All the other boys there had never done anything close to what he had. Even if they didn't know, it felt like they did.

Lance sighed and lifted himself out of bed, wandering down to the hall. There was only one person in the orphanage that he trusted: White. _Maybe if I find him, he'll—_ Lance cut his mind off and stopped walking to clutch his chest. _Maybe he'll what?_

Lance shook off the thought and calmed his reddened face as he continued down the halls. He had only been at the orphanage for a week, but he made it a point to memorize the path to White's room.

White was lenient with him. The other kids were kept up to a certain standard around the gang members, but Lance was allowed to explore wherever he wanted and stand closer to White than everyone else.

As he approached White's large set of doors, his heart started to beat through his chest. His hands trembled as he lifted one to knock. It was silent for a moment before he heard a grunt and shuffling from inside. Heavy footsteps traveled up to him and unlocked the door, opening it to reveal a fluffy-haired, drowsy gangster.

White was irritated for a moment until he recognized Lance's face and softened. "Hey there," he knelt down and spoke in a gentle voice with his hands on his thin shoulders. "What are you doing up? Is everything alright?"

Lance felt his cheeks warm as a smile spread across his lips. In that moment, everything he thought he was going to say went out the window. All he could do was lift his hands up to White's cheeks and lean into a soft kiss.

White remained still until he pulled back. Then he averted his eyes and removed his hands from Lance's shoulders. A sigh coated his throat with worry. "Listen kid..."

"Hey," Lance cringed at his high-pitched accented voice. "You help me and I'm not like other kids." He could feel his veins fill with adrenaline and saturate his bones. "Why?"

White kept his eyes down for a moment before lifting them and meeting Lance's. "I don't know if you'll ever understand...but if you will, it will be when you're older."

Lance swallowed his anxiety and clenched his fists, wrapping them up in the grey shirt White lent him. "I am not a child."

A playful smile flashed across his cheek as he reached up and held Lance's cheek. "You're pretty damn close." He stood with a grunt and yawned. "Especially compared to an old and rough-looking man like me."

"You're not old!" Lance cried out the words louder than he intended to. "And you don't look bad. You're..." he used his hands to form his words, "You're...kind...to me."

White stared down at him with an intense gaze, towering above his own self confidence.

"Why?" Lance took a step toward him, feeling his bare feet tap the carpet.

"Why are you up, kid?" White turned his body slightly away. "You need to sleep with the others. You shouldn't be here."

Lance panicked and latched onto White's shirt as hard as he could. "Wait, White!"

He looked down at where Lance was holding his shirt then cocked his head. "What?"

"I...I..." Lance took a few more steps until he could let his body rest against White's chest. He buried his face into his shirt and hid his eyes. "I can't sleep."

White immediately sighed and turned away from him. "Ten, I can't just—no, that was a one-time thing."

"Kashi," Lance pouted and wrapped his arms around his neck. He fought to keep their eyes on each other as he continued to beg. "I don't feel like I belong here."

White finally looked at him, trying to hide the concern in his eyes.

"I'm not..." Lance looked away from his intense gaze. "I'm not like the other kids." He shook his head, "I feel so alone here. So please," he moved his arms to hug White's chest. "Be my Elysium."

Kashi's body slowly relaxed into his touch, bringing his own arms around Lance's cold, bony frame. He buried his nose into his hair and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Okay."

~

Lance's eyes fluttered open as they adjusted to the morning sunlight coming in through the windows. His body immediately felt tired and sore, waking from the night before. He turned and pushed himself up from the fluffy bedding and took a look around. The room was unfamiliar, especially now that it was bathed in light.

_White's room._

Lance looked at the bed beside him to find it empty. The sound of clinking and shutting cabinet doors caught his attention. The door to the bathroom opened and White entered the bedroom on his phone. Lance suddenly realized that he was in only Kashi's grey shirt, legs bare and covered in hickeys and handprints. A small yelp escaped his mouth as he yanked the blanket over himself to hide the marks.

White stopped walking and turned to where Lance was hiding in the comforter. A small chuckle sounded from his deep chest. "Hey, you wanna come out of there?"

Lance slowly pulled the blanket down enough to peek his eyes out.

White gave him a wide, gentle smile and reached up to move the hair from Lance's forehead. "Good morning, Ten."

"Good morning, Kashi." Lance's voice was muffled by the blanket.

"Hey," White's face suddenly went cold, "I wanna ask you something." He motioned for him to remove the blanket. "Come out of there."

Lance complied and sat up, swinging his legs over to face him. He laced his fingers into the end of his shirt and held it down to cover himself as much as he could. "What?"

White knelt down on one knee and set his hands on Lance's lap. "You don't like being called 'Ten,' do you?"

Lance hesitantly shook his head, unsure of where the question was headed.

"I've thought about this for a little while now and after last night, I'm definitely sure."

"About what?"

White's face relaxed into a soft smile as he reached up to stroke his cheek. "If you wish it, I would love to call you Princess Charming."

Lance's eyes widened in surprise, "Princess Charming?"

White nodded and took ahold of Lance's hands, bringing them up to kiss the back of his fingers. His eyes gently closed for a moment before looking over his knuckles and meeting Lance's. "If you would accept my proposal, you can join Voltron as Princess Charming," he finally lowered their hands back down to Lance's thighs, "And my partner."


	56. Mateo

Lance prepared himself for the disgust Keith had described. He expected Mateo to scoff and slam the door in his face. Did he even believe him? Did he see his child in Lance?

Mateo was silent for a long time. He stared at Lance's lowered head as he processed what he had said. After what felt like forever, he lifted a hand and placed his fingers under Lance's chin, raising his eyes back up to meet his. There was a tense silence between them as he studied the eyes of the boy in front of him. Gradually, his own began to fill with shimmering tears.

Mateo slid his hand from Lance's chin to his cheek. His breath became shaky, accompanied by a trembling tone. "You're...my Lucy?"

Lance felt a frightened tear slide down his cheek. He hesitantly nodded, "It's Lance now."

Mateo's face contorted into shock and warm heartbreak. "My...son?" His arms tensed up as he slowly wrapped them around his shoulders.

Lance was pulled into his chest, relaxing in a tight embrace. He couldn't hold back his crying or act "appropriately." This wasn't just a hug. It was an act of acceptance and paternal love. Something both of them had waited for for a lifetime.

"You came back home." Mateo's voice as tear-filled as Lance's cheeks. A small gasp escaped his chest as he pulled back and held his shoulders, "Where did you go? What happened to you?" His voice was soaked in tears and shock, trembling uncontrollably.

Lance felt his heart shatter, "Oh Papi..." He covered his face in shame as his entire life flashed through his mind. "I've done so many terrible things."

Mateo reached over and opened the front door, "Oh! Come in, come in. Let's get you out of the cold."

Lance followed his instructions and walked inside with his wrists massaging his cheeks. The door led to a cozy living room with a white stone fireplace. Pictures showing off a happy family of three and various tourist knick-knacks decorated the mantle. He took a seat on the grey couch, feeling the fire warm his chilled skin. The house was gentle and homey unlike the orphanage or Keith's place ever was. It was similar to a cliché family's little cottage in the woods.

Mateo sat down next to him on the couch and placed a hand on his shoulder. His eyes held a concoction of concern, shock, and curiosity. "Where...where did you go? I just—" his throat closed up with all the questions he had and all the answers he wanted.

Lance sighed and dropped his head into his hands, leaning his elbows on his knees. "I just..." he glanced up at him with a pitiful sniffle, "Do you know how I disappeared?"

Mateo's eyes reddened and glittered in the glow of the fire. A pained expression passed over his face as he shook his head. "No...I don't."  He took his hand back and stared down at his lap. "I don't know how much you know...you were so little. What do you remember?"

Lance lifted his head, gave him a mournful look, and shook his head, "Only the day I left." He looked down at his hands, watching the tears fall onto his skin. "Wha—what...who..."

He took a deep breath in understanding. "Your mother and I...we weren't married. I look so young because I was only sixteen when I got her pregnant. She was twenty-eight."

Lance stared at him with wide eyes. He wanted to add to the airy silence, but he couldn't find the words. There was only one thing he could think about in that moment—or rather, one _person._ He took in a shaky breath, "My fiancé is twenty-six."

Mateo's face lit up and dropped at the same time. "You're..." he reached up to cup his cheeks, "You're engaged?"

Lance was choked with more sorrow as memories of Shiro came flooding back. He couldn't hold back any more tears and dropped down to Mateo's chest, hugging his waist as he was cradled in a  long-awaited fatherly embrace.

Mateo shushed him and rocked back and forth slightly. "Shh. It's okay." His voice broke. "You're okay now."

Lance allowed himself to sob into Mateo's shirt as they cried together in the glow of the fire. He bit his lip to try and compose himself a little, "Why do you believe me?"

Mateo chuckled and rubbed his back to calm him. "You have the exact same eyes as you did the day you were born." He sniffled. "Had them all your life."

"Papa?" A hesitant voice gently called out to them, followed by a quiet patter of feet on hardwood.

"Veronica," the woman from before jumped out and grabbed her wrist, "ússie!"

"It's okay," Mateo waved her off and motioned for them to join them. He turned to look down at Lance, "Is it alright to introduce you?"

Lance kept his face hidden in his father's chest as Veronica and the woman sat down on their knees behind the coffee table. He gave a small nod but kept his hands latched onto his shirt.

Mateo wiped his eyes and motioned to them, "This is Veronica, my daughter, and Liliana, my wife." He looked over at them and pointed to Lance in his arms. "This is Lance, he's..." a smile tugged at his lips. "He's my son." He looked over at Veronica, "Your brother."

"Brother?!" Veronica's voice squeaked a little when she questioned it. She moved her pale hair out of her eyes and looked at her mother and father. "But I don't have a brother."

"You do," Mateo nodded and patted Lance's back, "He's just been gone a long time."

Liliana shared a look with Mateo to confirm her suspicions. It was obvious she had heard about him before. When Mateo nodded, she stood from the floor and sat down next to Lance on the couch, placing a gentle hand on his back. "Hello there." Her voice was thick with a strange accent. She was obviously a native. A smile lit up her face. "Have you eaten?"

Lance slowly relaxed and looked back at her, bringing his head away from his father's cover. He shook his head.

Liliana stood and headed toward the kitchen, "Good! You stay for dinner?"

Lance turned back to Mateo, who nodded. "Okay..." he looked at Liliana again. "Yeah, okay."


	57. Hot Cocoa

A mug clinked the wood of the porch step as Mateo set it down next to Lance. He gave him a soft smile and joined him with a cup of his own. The cold wind brushed his hair as the dying sunlight slowly disappeared.

Lance used his fingertips to push his hair behind his ear and picked up the cup. A cone of whipped cream and peppermint sprinkles decorated the ceramic, creating a bubble of Christmas around him. After giving a questioning glance, Mateo chuckled and replied, "It's hot cocoa."

"Aw, that's cute." Lance smiled and brought the mug up to his lips. The whipped cream stroked his Cupid's bow and tickled his nose.

Mateo fiddled with the rim of his cup and raised an eyebrow. "What is?"

Lance took a sip and licked the cream off his face. He brought the mug down to his thighs to warm his chilled legs. "You call it hot _cocoa._ "

Mateo leaned back with a longing happiness and stared out at the snow. "What am I supposed to call it?"

"Hot _chocolate._ " He waved it off with a laugh. "But it's not a big deal."

A look of confusion tugged on his charming face but was quickly replaced by grief. "You..." he scoffed at himself, "You're so grown up."

Lance nodded and hesitantly glanced over at him, "I'm eighteen now."

From his profile, one could tell he had so much to say but no words to use. The force of an entire lifetime held his tongue in chains and sewed his mouth shut. Troubled. Regretful. Maybe that's how he had been since Lance's disappearance. "You...mentioned that..."

Lance cocked his head and softened his eyes to provide a gentle encouragement. "Hm?"

Mateo kept his eyes down as he choked down his tears. "Your fiancé...what's she like?"

Lance's eyelids sped through the three years he had spent with Shiro. He pulled his eyes back and took a long breath. " _He_ , actually, is...very caring. Lovable," he shook his head in thought, "Supportive. Just an amazing guy."

"What's his name?"

Lance opened his mouth to respond, but quickly shut it and chose his words carefully. "Papi..." he met his father's eyes, "I've done so many bad things."

Mateo bit his lip and shook his head. "No." His voice was on the verge of breaking. "You must've been through a lot."

Lance took another breath and averted his gaze, "Yeah...you could say that." He brought the mug back up to his lips as he collected his thoughts and grounded himself. When he returned it to its place between his tights, he cautiously whispered. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he replied with a nod.

Lance's eyes glided up to the darkening sky as defeat embedded itself into his veins. "What did you think happened to me?"

Mateo's breath hitched only a spilt second before he conjured up the courage to continue. "I think deep down I truly believed you were dead in a forest somewhere, but...I refused to give up the hope that you were okay and just lost. "A tear fell from his eye. "Waiting for us to find you."

"Dad..." Lance felt his own eyes building up with bubbles of sorrow. All he could muster was a broken whisper. "I was in a really bad place...with very mean men; but...Shiro, my fiancé, saved me and brought me to an orphanage where they took me in. That's when we became a thing."

Mateo looked at him for a second then returned to the snow. "How old were you?"

"Fifteen."

"Fifteen?" Concern soaked into his words. "Lance..."

Lance lifted up a hand to stop him, "Believe me when I say that you need to hear the full story before you pass any judgement."

Mateo nodded, "Okay, son."

Lance raised his eyes up to look at the sky again as his mind wandered back to the place he called _home._

_"What were you doing upstairs?" Cinnamon gave him a confused look and quickly scanned the area for anyone that would yell at them. "No one is supposed to be up there."_

_Lance's face stayed relaxed and dazed as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Shh! It's too early to be talking so loud."_

_"It's eight o'clock; and you shouldn't even be up th—" Cinnamon cut himself off and eyes his skin with growing realization._

_"It's alright," Lance shoved past him and headed to the kitchen, opening the doors and walking in on his own command._

_Cinnamon ran after him, "Wait!" He scoffed in annoyance and threw his hands up. "Ten! What are you doing in here? We're not allowed to be in the kitchen on our own."_

_"Princess Charming."_

_"What?"_

_Lance snatched a slice of bread and popped it in the toaster. "It's Princess Charming now." He locked eyes with the confused boy in the doorway. "And I have authorization to the building."_

_"Authorization?" Cinnamon shook his head in exasperation "Authorization to what?"_

_Lance held up the key ring White had given him, which was cramped with many keys. Way too many to be unimportant._

"Hey Dad?" Lance gently clamped his eyes shut. "What was my mother like?"

A deafening silence limped into the air around them. "Um," Mateo placed his mug on the porch steps next to him and clapped his hands together, "She was...different from the rest. Not a care in the world. A little cocky—we didn't always get along."

Lance turned his head to look at him as his heart fell into his stomach. Scratchiness filed his throat down and brought a film of tears to his eyes. "Then what happened to her?"

Mateo took a deep breath. "I don't know." He rubbed his face into his hands. "Wait," his eyes darted over to him, "What do _you_ mean?"

Lance shrugged, "She's in a correctional facility, Dad. And..." He looked down and thought about the circumstances. What exactly did Mateo know? "She was on drugs."

"How do you know that?" Mateo's face became stern with worry and curiosity.

Lance took a deep breath and gulped down his regret. Clasping together his shaky hands, he locked eyes with him again and stared right into his golden brown irises. "Because she sold me for drugs, Mateo."


	58. Theatre

Shiro tossed the rope toy only about five feet in front of him, watching the jumpy pile of white fluff prance through the snow to chase it. It's cotton ball ears flopped around as it got distracted and started rolling around in the snowflakes. It's coat had been groomed beautifully, curling up in signature white poodle curls.

Shiro chuckled and started toward the puppy. He cupped his hands around his mouth, "Theatre!" He slapped his thighs. "Come here, boy!"

Theatre immediately spun around to face him, then ran full speed back to his legs. He ran laps around his feet and yipped up at him. Shiro laughed at his young playfulness and scooped him up in his arms, walking back to the orphanage doors. The sky was overcast and rained down scarce flurries over the already covered ground. The wind stung his skin and chilled Theatre's paw pads. When they were inside the warmth of the building, Shiro let him down and stripped off his winter coat and gloves.

"Theatre!" Gigabyte's peppy voice sounded from one of the tables as she sat on her computer. Once she tapped her thighs, Theatre sprinted over and jumped onto her to curl up in her lap. She continued her work with one hand scratching behind the puppy's ear.

The fireplace on the left wall was lit up, creating a glow of heat that could be felt from the front door. Shiro looked around at the kids playing various board games or watching the TV. He wasn't fond of children, but they had grown to become a little bit of a comfort for him. Simply hearing their voices on a daily basis was enjoyable. It reminded him that there were other living things in the big house they shared.

Shiro whistled to call Theatre back, who happily obliged and followed him up the stairs. Once he reached the top, he paused and turned to look down the left hall. After a few moments of thought, he turned to approach the door to the dance studio. The door opened with a slight creak as he stepped in, leaving the lights off. Theatre trotted after him with his nails clicking on the hardwood.

Shiro glided over to the middle of the room then turned in a circle to scan all of it. So many memories had been made in just that room—too many to count yet they all played out in his mind. His jaw clenched as his legs gradually gave out, bringing him down to sit crosslegged on the floor with a mournful sigh. In the mirror was a broken man with nothing to live for. Rather, a man who _used_ to have nothing to live for. Now he had Theatre. And if a dog was what was going to save his life, then so be it.  
  


"Are you fucking serious right now?!" Lance slapped his hand down on the counter and shook his head in disgust.

Keith threw his arms up in disapproval, "This country is run by _gangs,_ Lance!"

"Yeah," he tossed the pan he had been using to cook into the sink and shoved the faucet handle up. Steam clouded above it and gradually disappeared. "Gangs that couldn't care less about some foreigner!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

Keith pursed his lips together and rested his hands on the counter, glaring at Lance with a condescending expression. "Did your daddy tell you that?"

Lance stared at him for a moment to register what he said. When it clicked, he threw down the wooden spoon in his hand and walked off toward the bedroom. "You know what? Fuck you."

"Lance!" Keith sighed and rushed after him, snatching his hands and wrapping his arms around his shoulders from behind. He rested his head into the crook of his neck and kissed his skin. "I just want you to be careful."

"January."

Keith lifted his head a little to look at his face. "What?"

"It's January." Lance turned around in his hold and placed his hands on Keith's chest. "I've lived here for nearly seven months."

"Yeah?" Keith wasn't following what he was saying.

Lance gave him an annoyed look, "I'm quite aware of how this fucking country works, Keith. I've lived here for six fucking months." He pushed himself out of his hold. "We've had Christmas, New Years, your birthday, I mean—" he tossed his hands in frustration, "Why is this a problem now?"

"Because you're just..." he trailed off and took Lance's hands again. He leaned into his ear and pecked his cheek. "You get too careless."

Lance didn't like the attitude he was giving off. "What is your problem? You yell at me and now you wanna fuck?" He tried pulling away, but Keith kept him in his hold.

"Baby, look, I'm sorry. Alright?" Keith shook his head with a sigh. "All we ever do is fight; come on, let's just make up and have some fun."

Lance felt bad about being so mean to him. Keith wasn't a bad guy, he was just going through some stuff. His callused hands trailed down his back to his thighs, picking him up to wrap Lance's legs around his waist. Truth be told, Lance was tired of fighting too. The past six months had been very difficult for others of them.

Just like before Shiro, sometimes Lance would have to give in and let him do what he wanted. So what? If it helped them stop fighting then he didn't care. If Keith needed an outlet for his frustration and sex was just that, then Lance would do what he wanted.

Keith kept their lips locked as he walked into the bedroom, lowering Lance onto the bed. He hovered above and left kiss marks along his collarbones and shoulders. Lance wasn't present. He was there physically, but he couldn't keep his mind clear.

Shiro lightly kissed the middle of his chest and looked up at him with intense eyes. "You alright?"

Lance nodded and hugged his arms around Shiro's neck, "Yeah." He lifted his body to press it against his and kissed him deeply. With a gentle push on his shoulder, Lance switched places with him and sat on top. The mere sight of him there in his bed brought an excited warmth to his bones. A blush formed on his cheeks as he let his fingers trail over his disheveled hair, down his cheeks and chest. His eyes softened as he gave Shiro a content grin. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too." Keith pushed himself up and switched back to being on top, continuing his work on Lance's skin.

Lance felt his chest panic as his eyes widened at the realization of what had just happened. "No," he scrambled to push Keith off and slide out from underneath him. "No, no." He stumbled off the bed and attempted to smooth his fuzzy sweater and distressed jeans. "No, I can't."

Keith gave off a short burst of confusion before he became completely livid. "Are you _serious_ right now?!"

Lance wasn't fazed by his shouting. All he could think of was what had happened. "I just can't, Keith." He shook his head over and over as he hurried out of the room mumbling a worn out, "I'll sleep on the couch tonight."  
  


Lance hugged his knees and stared out the window wall, sitting on the pale blue couch. Wärshen was so beautiful in the winter. Seas of blues and whites and browns flooded the traditional town.

_"Charming, look." Shiro tugged his arm and leaned down to point out a mother deer and her fawn._

_Lance cooed, "Aw! It's a little baby."_

_Shiro looked down at him with loving eyes. A smile spread his cheeks, flashing tiny glimpses of his white teeth._

_Lance met his eyes with a confused chuckled, "What?"_

"Lance?" Keith leaned against the bedroom doorframe with a slight frown. "You okay?"

The smile he didn't know was there slowly dissipated. "Yeah..." he looked back out the window. "I was just thinking about how pretty this country is."

Keith tried to force a smile, but it failed. With a frustrated breath, he scratched his head and walked over to the kitchen. Various cabinets and silverware clinked as he rummaged through for breakfast. After a minute too long, he finally spoke in a worn voice. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Lance kept his eyes on the pine trees waving at him and the dusty blue ocean horizon. "No."

Keith scoffed, "Of course you don't."

Lance wanted to whip around and scream at him, but he couldn't find the strength for it. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't forget everything. Why should he have to feel bad about it? "Keith," he sighed, "I don't know what you want me to say."

There was a clatter of a fork hitting the counter. "Anything! Just admit that you hate it here! Admit that you want to go back to Lady!"

Lance weakly turned to face him. Keith stood over the counter shooting aggravated breaths through his teeth. With a weary voice, Lance tried to plead with him. "Of course I miss Voltron."

Keith scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning back to the stove.

"But," Lance continued, "Don't think for a second that I don't want to be here with you." A burning sting tore at his tired eyes. "It's just gonna take some time."

"How much time?!" Keith slammed his hands down again. He clenched his jaw and ground his teeth. "You said it yourself, Lance. It's been six months." His voice turned hoarse. "Six months and you're still thinking about that pervert in bed," he spat out with a seething hatred.

"Hey!" Lance threw the blanket off him and jumped up. "That is _not_ fair!"

"But it's true, isn't it?!" Keith glared at him once more. They eyes staring back at Lance were nothing like the ones he had thought he fell in love with.

All that traveled through his veins in that moment was disgust. Disgust from everything: his cockiness, his attitude, his hands, his inability to let go of the past, his _eyes_. Those hate-filled eyes disgusted him the most. He scoffed and shook his head in frustration.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Keith turned back to the stove to continue making breakfast, but stopped for a moment only to slap the pan off the stove and stomp back into the bedroom.


	59. Will This Be The End Of Us?

Lance woke up before Keith. An immediate smile appeared on his face as he looked over and saw his sleeping face. With a cheeky giggle, he snatched his pillow and gently slapped him with it. "Keith, get up!"

"Hey," Keith used his arm to block the blows and yank the pillow out of his hands, throwing it down on the floor.

Lance kissed his cheek and hopped out of bed. "I'm gonna go shopping." He headed toward the closet and picked out his outfit.

"Shopping?" Keith rolled over to watch him. "Today?" He checked his phone. "But we're supposed to be together today."

"We will," Lance slipped into the bathroom and started to wash his face. "Tonight." He dried his skin with a towel and brushed his teeth. "I wanna go see what Valentine's Day is like in Wärshen."

"Hmm," Keith looked to the side with a slight frown and dropped back into his pillow. "Okay. Just don't stay out too late."

"Sure thing!" Lance quickly got dressed and headed out the door.

Things were finally better. Keith apologized and Lance compromised. They went on coffee dates and walked through the cozy streets together. The days went by with a comfortably slow pace. They flowed with a love they didn't have before. Maybe it was finally time to get over what happened.

Maybe they could finally go back to Voltron soon.

Lance giggled and skipped into the candle store, hurrying to the baked scents. Cake and cookies were Lance's favorite types of candles. Making the home smell like a bakery was his favorite hobby. He picked out a coffee cake one and a cupcake one then headed out to window shop.

Evening came too fast and before Lance knew it, he realized that he was late. "Dammit!" He rushed back to the house and unlocked the door, hopping back in and whining about how cold it was.

Until he saw Keith. Then the bags in his hand fell to the floor with muffled thuds as his throat closed up.

Lance had seen this before. Almost exactly the same. Keith sat on the couch, staring out the window wall at the snow gently falling. His elbows were on his knees with his chin rested on his fists. A familiar London Fog bag lied on the floor next to his feet.

Lance's white Lolita heels gently clicked the stained hardwood as he choked down his thrashing heart. He stopped a few feet away from the couch, feeling the ends of his red and black swing coat tap the back of his thighs. Crossing his arms to warm his icy hands, he cocked a leg and followed Keith's stare. "So this is it, then?"

Keith didn't look back at him, choosing to stay completely still. He swallowed hard and spoke in a droopy voice. "You're not happy here, Lance."

"I told you that I just need time." Lance's emotions ran cold, chilling to a stop as his mind tried to process the situation.

Keith slowly shook his head. "No. It's been seven months. I can't give you any more time." He dropped his neck to his palms. "You...can't force yourself to love me. That's not how it works."

Lance's throat went dry as his hands clammed up. "That's...not why I'm here."

"That's not what I said." Keith finally turned to look at his eyes. His face was as empty as Lance's. "I may be what you need, but I'm not what you want." He sighed. "You're gonna have to admit that someday."

"We can't do this today." Lance stared at his feet. "Not on...fucking Valentine's Day."

"This is the perfect day to do this." Keith stood with a grunt and stared back out the window. "You...don't love me like I need you to."

Lance clenched his jaw, "Please don't."

Keith paused in thought, then turned his body slightly to look at him. "If you stay, can you promise me that you don't have any feelings for White? Can you look me in the eyes and mean it?"

Lance opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn't find any words. In the end, he scoffed and averted his eyes.

Keith took a deep breath. "That's what I thought."

"I thought..." Lance's face scrunched up as he battled with himself, "I thought we were happy."

Keith's boots shuffled and walked into Lance's view. "I am," he set his hands on his shoulders and ran them down his arms, cradling his elbows, "but you're not."

"But I love you." Lance leaned forward, dropping his head into Keith's chest. "I love you so much."

"I know." Keith wrapped his arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly. "But not enough."

"Please don't." Keith's shirt was balled up in Lance's fists as he clung to him. What a strange role reversal. It hurt being on the other side. "Please don't make me go." Keith was supposed to be his breath of fresh air, his inamorato, his ticket to recuperation; but it went so wrong. Again.

Keith's voice became shaky. He sniffled, "Go home, Lance." He kissed his hair and took a breath of him. "I'm not what you want." A small sob clawed at his throat. "I don't think I ever was."

"Please," Lance couldn't hold back his tears anymore, letting them fall like rain. "I can't do this again."

Keith let out a broken chuckle. "Lance, you know the phrase: _if you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours; if it doesn't, it never was_?"

Lance pulled back to look into his teary eyes. He nodded as Keith cradled his cheeks.

It took a minute for Keith to gather the strength needed to finish what he was saying. His mouth opened to speak, but stayed silent for a while. With a tiny nudge, he emphasized every word. "I'm...not...that person." His throat clamped shut, but he forced it open. "You're...not mine; and...I'm not the one who let you go." A tear slid down his cheek. "I don't have your heart, Lance. Lady does. He always did. He let you go. Now," Keith let his hands release Lance's face, floating down to his sides, "It's time for you to go back."

Lance roughly wiped his eyes with his sleeves as he cried softly in the dim evening light. Nothing could be done. As much as he wanted it to be wrong, it wasn't. The absence of Keith's touch left him cold and alone. "But," he sniffled, "but I don't think White will take me back even if I did."

"He will." There was some shuffling, then the rough touch of fabric through his black tights. Lance uncovered his eyes to see the bag by his feet. Keith rubbed a hand over his face and stared down at it. "I packed your stuff."

"Keith," Lance pleaded. "Please don't."

Keith grabbed his winter coat from the couch and lifted his keys off the home key holder on the wall. They had picked it out in their early days of living in Wärshen—back when things were good and fluffy. When they weren't fighting and Lance wasn't fantasizing about Shiro. He stopped at the door, keeping his back to Lance. "Come on."

Lance pitifully whimpered as he knelt down to pick up his bag. His heels clicked the wood again, bringing a somber chill to the room as they left it.

Keith drove in silence through the quiet town. The car only held Lance's gentle crying and the whooshing of the vents. He was still sniffling when they reached the airport in the city. Keith parked the car and took Lance's bag for him as they walked inside. He stopped along the far wall of the lobby to allow people to pass and turned to Lance, lowering the bag to the ground.

Lance stared up at him with pleading eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "I'm—" he hiccuped a sob, "I'm so sorry."

Keith battled with himself for a few moments before giving in and yanking Lance into a tight embrace, letting him cry into his coat. He shushed him and pet his hair as Lance clasped his hands around his waist. People around them stared in pity or confusion as they clung to each other, Lance's crying mixing in with the bustling of the crowds.

Keith forced a small laugh and shaky smile as he pulled back to hold his cheeks. "Hey, shh. Remember how happy you were when you got your ring? That pretty diamond heart?" His eyes teared up and shimmered in the artificial light. "Remember that." He was finally breaking down, becoming panicked and jumpy. "Rem—remember—remember how much—how much you love him. Because Lance," Keith tried to laugh again, "Lance you love him so much."

Lance cried harder and held the backs of Keith's hands. "I'm so sorry! I'm s—so sor—ry!"

"I know." Keith held him close again and kissed his head. "I know. I know. It's okay."

"Keith," Lance whined his name over and over, hoping maybe it would make everything okay.

"It's okay Lance." Keith kissed his head one more time and reached into his jacket.

Lance only cried harder when he offered up his passport and plane ticket. He took them with trembling hands as he mashed his sleeve into his eyes.

"Go home, Lance." Keith reached a hand up to wipe one of his cheeks. "It's okay. I'm not mad. I'm—I'm just letting you go." His lip quivered. "Thank you for loving me."

Lance grabbed his arms and forced himself back into his hold. "I ran to you!" He hugged his neck hard enough to lift him off the ground a few inches. "I chose you!"

"Yeah," Keith held his waist and lifted him up to take the weight off his arms. "But you don't love me. All this time," he shook his head, "I thought the problem was Lady, but...it was me."

"I love you, I really do."

"No," Keith kissed his cheek, "Not the way you think you do." Reluctantly, he lowered him back down and loosened his arms. He took a small step back and wiped his eyes. "Go home, Lance." Sobs lined his throat, "Go back to the man you love."

Lance stood there in tears as he watched Keith's warmth leave his body. A wall built itself between them as they screamed and clawed at it in silence.

Keith kept his body away as he cupped Lance's cheek and kissed his hair one last time. "I'm letting you go," a whimper caught in his throat, "because I love you too much for you to be in pain." He stepped back and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Go to him, Lance."

Lance had a headache from crying so much and a stomach ache from all the sorrow. He knelt down a little to pick up the bag, clenching his passport and ticket in his other hand. He stopped and looked into his eyes, "Will you come back?"

Keith gave him a trembling smile and a nod. "One day, I'll come back to you."

With a final shared gaze, Lance took in this painful moment. In front of him was Keith and behind him was Shiro. All this time he led himself to believe that he had a choice. That he had time. He didn't plan on choosing way before anything ever happened. Lance gripped his bag tighter and turned around, walking up to the desk.

It was Shiro. It always had been. What a joke it was that Lance thought he had any say in the matter. He settled into his seat on the plane and stared out the window. It was always Shiro. Voltron was Lance's home—Shiro was Lance's safe haven. He didn't regret his time with Keith. He showed him many things about the world he didn't know existed. They taught him about life, friends, family, and most importantly: love. Lance loved Keith. Loved. Past tense. Lance loved him and Keith loved back. It was a gentle campfire in the woods—a nice vacation, but eventually they had to go back inside before they froze.

Lance rubbed his sore eyes and looked down at the bracelet on his wrist. The Tiffany one Shiro got him. He had worn it the entire time; and it never occurred to him that he should take it off. Lance loved it too much. Not because it was expensive or pretty or diamonds, but because it was from the person he loved. The person he loves.

Lance took a deep breath and hugged it to his chest, "I'm coming back to you, Shiro."


	60. Reunion

The snow crunched under Lance's boots as he stepped out of the taxi and into the winter air. The only warmth he could feel was from the sun above him as it casted down golden rays onto the blue and grey Earth. He adjusted his gloves and gripped onto his London Fog bag, shutting the car door and watching it speed away.

The faint sound of barking caught his attention as he turned toward the orphanage. A fluffy white poodle puppy was frolicking in the yard with a colorful rope toy flopping from its mouth. The sun gave its coat a shiny gloss and brightened its halo of innocence.

"Theatre! Come here, boy!"

Lance's heart dropped as he heard the familiar voice he had been longing for. Shiro was bundled up in a grey winter coat and matching beanie. His cheeks were glowing with a radiant smile as he chased after the dog with a bright laugh emitting from his deep chest. Choking down his anxiety, Lance took a step forward and started down the circle driveway of the orphanage. As he got closer he could make out Shiro's familiar features that had aged since he had been gone. His eyes looked worn and his skin was duller than when he left him. Even when he was smiling he was tired.

The dog was the first to notice Lance. It paused its chase and stared at him for a moment before running full-speed to circle his feet. Its tail was wagging a million miles an hour and its tongue was flopping around as it hung from the side of its mouth. Lance giggled and set down his bag to kneel and pick it up, letting it lick his face and wiggle its tail out of his hold. "Hello there, little one." He pet its head and scratched under its chin. "You look just like Script did."

The sound of crunching snow stole Lance's attention away from the poodle. He turned his head to face Shiro's longing face as a burst of winter wind fluttered his hair and swing coat. Lance kissed the puppy's head and released it to return to the house as he took a step toward Shiro, leaving his bag where it was.

Shiro began to walk to him as well, his eyes becoming more and more sparkly as he increased his speed. "Lance?"

Lance picked up his pace and ran into his arms, jumping up and hugging his neck as hard as he could. Shiro clung to him, lifting him up and spinning him around a few times. An encased moment of pure joyful reunion that would be the best day of their lives. That void that was left in their intertwined hearts was filled after nearly seven long months. Lance was home.

Lance felt tears running down his face as he laughed and pulled back to hold Shiro's cheeks. "I told you I'd come back."

"But what—" he looked around in a slight panic, "I thought you were with Keith."

Lance shook his head and pulled him into a deep kiss. It was finally real. It felt like forever since he'd kissed someone and meant it. Nothing had to be faked now. It was true and pure and raw, untainted love.

Shiro cradled his head and pulled back to rest their foreheads together. He let out a pitiful sob and lowered him back down to the ground. "I thought," he sniffled and rubbed his face, "I thought I'd never see you again."

Lance reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, wiping away tears with his thumb. "I love you. Only you."

Shiro leaned into his touch and tugged out the chain around his neck. A small glint flashed off the metal as he handed it over.

Lance gently lifted them out of his hand and read over the words. One was Shiro's and one was his own. Happily placing it over his head, he felt a tear fall from his jaw. "Hey, Shiro?"

Shiro cradled Lance's elbows and looked down at him with shimmering eyes. "Yes?"

"Can I..." he took in a shaky breath, "Can I have my ring back?"

Shiro's breath hitched as his eyes filled once more. He nodded and took out his own dog tags, cradling a heart-shaped ring among the clinking metal. He removed it from the chain and lifted Lance's hand, sliding the ring onto his finger. A small chuckle emitted from his throat. "You sure know how to make a guy wait."

Lance laughed—actually laughed. He yanked Shiro back down to kiss him once more.

"Charming?!"

Lance pulled back to look at the front doors of the orphanage. Gigabyte stood in her ruffled coat that she had hastily put on. He smiled at her and held his arms out. She leaped down the stairs and ran into him, wrapping her arms around his waist as tightly as she could. "I thought you were gone!" Her voice was crackled and muffled in his coat as she sobbed. "I thought you were never coming back!"

Lance held her shoulder with one arm and pet her hair softly. "Of course I came back." He quickly wiped a tear from his cheek. "I could never leave you guys forever. Never again." He glanced down at his ring that fit so perfectly around his finger. It felt right. True. He made a vow right then that he would never give it up again.

Hunk emerged from the building in a rush, speed-walking down to meet him. "What the hell are you doing here?" His face was full of shock and surprise. "Where's Keith?"

Lance held onto Gigabyte and hardened his eyes, shaking his head. "I'm home now."

Hunk's mouth fell to a frown as he spat out a snappy "Welcome back." and returned to the orphanage.

"Are you staying?! For real this time?!" Gigabyte gazed up at him with shimmering eyes.

Lance cradled her cheeks in his thinning fingers. A smile spread across his bright face. "Yes. For real."


	61. Leaving For Real

{Sorry for the short chapter, but I wanted to update and get this story going again!}

The white noise of the shower filled the space of Shiro's room as Lance wandered around, one foot in front of the other. He let his fingers trail over the various holiday picture frames and glass perfume bottles he once shattered across the floor. The sight of the scars on his hand made him jump for a second before he calmed and remembered the shootout. The pad of his left thumb had a chunk missing off the side and a bed of scars over it. His last pinky digit with the nail had been removed, leaving behind a stub. Clinging to the nostalgic white t-shirt hanging off his shoulders, he smiled and turned to admire his reflection in the morning light framed in the vanity mirror.

His ruffled bedhead reached up to the ceiling as his bright skin found comfort once more in the kiss marks and bruises among his freckles. This place had given him so many things: food, a home, friends, a lover. It was his safe haven. His Elysium. Not one inch of his body yearned for Wärshen or the cold embrace of his lost love. It was all behind him. For the best.

Lance skipped down the stairs with a cheerful aura. This was his first day back. Excitement traveled through his veins and put a smile on his face as he fell into his comfortable old routine. Until the familiar rolling of tiny wheels caught his attention.

"You can't keep me here, Gigabyte."

"But Charming just got back, what the fuck is your problem?!" She yanked his shoulder to turn him around.

Cinnamon shoved her arm off and leaned over her with a condescending glare. "What about Anger? How do you think he's doing right now?" His eyes held more disappointment than anything Lance had ever seen before. More than the men he used to bite. More than the pitiful looks he got from Peter. "Maybe he's passed out on his floor or in some alley. Oh! Or maybe he's got a gu-!"

"Shh!" Gigabyte slapped his arm and shot a look over at the stairs where Lance stood.

He sighed, clicked his teeth, and crossed his arms. His eyes flickered down to the suitcase beside Cinnamon's feet. "Where are you going?"

Cinnamon stared at him for a long time. Way too long. Everyone already knew the answer to that question but no one wanted to say it. The same could be said to those who wanted to hear.

Gigabyte watched the stand-off with a worried expression plastered over her face. The only thing that broke the silence was her sheepish voice calling out the appalled aura emanating from him. "Charming..."

Lance looked back down at his suitcase. Then back at his eyes. "Well are you leaving or not?" Rather than waiting for the answer, he stomped past the two with an ominous glare as he burst through the kitchen doors.

Cinnamon didn't come after him like Lance expected him to. Instead, his feet remained still for a few moments before continuing to the front doors. Gigabyte's pleas emitted once again as she followed after him, begging him to stay.

Lance was extremely pissed off at the scene before him. Was Cinnamon really going to leave him there without any goodbye? Nothing at all? He didn't even go after him when he stormed off. Lance practically punched the doors as he returned to the main room of the orphanage.

He threw his hands out at the closed doors and yelled out at the empty room in exasperated rage. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?!"


	62. Okay, Let's Talk About Something.

Alright guys, Kitty here. After talking to my girlfriend about the recent chapters, I've come to realize that some readers aren't quite _getting_ this story. So I'm opening up a discussion about things you may have had a question about.

So first of all, let's talk about Lance. He is by far the most complex character I've ever written. Here's why: he's ignorant. Listen, he grew up being raped. _Since he was five._ Do you even remember when you were five? When you think of your childhood some things may come to mind; school, annoying teachers, fights with your siblings, I don't know. But all those things that _you_ got to experience were taken from Lance before he even had a grasp on life itself.

1: He never went to school. If you go to my "writing journal" type book (Stories I may pursue), there is an extra Call Boy Blue chapter in which Lance tries to help one of the orphan children with a basic math problem, but he can't do it. He has no idea. Lance was never taught _anything_ except how to handle himself while being raped, definitely not basic math.

2: He never had any friends. Some would argue that in a place where there's multiple children being kept together like he was at, he had to have had someone. But he didn't. This may or may not come up in the story, but there was one older man that worked in the mansion that Lance was taken to. He took pity on Lance and tried to get him free, but was ultimately fired and..."taken care of." Lance didn't know any of this, all he knew was that this one man was nice to him, but left one day. That's all he knew about relationships. Everyone else was only close to him for survival purposes.

3: He didn't have any parents. Think back on what your parents taught you. I don't mean things like how to hunt or do your homework or things like that—I'm talking about psychological things: how to develop basic relationships, how to handle conflict, how to create your real self. Even if you had terrible parents, you were taught these things, healthy or not. Lance didn't even learn the _bad_ versions of these, let alone the good ones.

You must think about these things before judging the way Lance handles his affair with Keith or interacts with Hunk.  
  


**Also: extra note: remember that shootout in which Lance was shot in the hand? I've searched through some pictures and found a few that are very similar to what it would have looked like plus the scars left behind.** **_Keep in mind: some of these are very bloody and graphic. Pictures are at the bottom of the chapter._ **   
  
  
  


Next, "GASP whyyy did Lance leave Keith if they were perfectttt??? Shiro is such a BAAAD guuyuyyuyyy!!"

Alright. I've said this before. I'll say it again: There _is_ an abuser.....but it's not Shiro.

Think back on the first interactions we see between Shiro and Lance. They were very happy, completely content with each other. We see their love for each other in scenes like these two:

_Princess's expression didn't change as he took a deep breath and let his eyes close for a moment. When he opened them, they flickered over to Keith for a split second before he walked over to Lady and took his hand._

_Keith was genuinely surprised at the sight. White leaned forward and kissed the back of his hand, cowering down to him. A bow of complete surrender. Princess used his other hand to play with White's hair as he gave himself away._

AND

_Lance looked up at him and shook his head. "Charming!" White jumped to his side and looked over his body. That's when Keith saw the extent of his injury. Lance's left palm was shattered. Two shots: one to his thumb and one under his pinky finger. The pain must not have hit him yet, as he wasn't acting like he was in serious pain. White's attitude shifted into a hurricane of pure rage. He kissed Lance's head and brought him to his chest. Lance used his right arm to wrap it around his neck, finally being hit with the pain in his hand._

They were perfect. Happily in love.   
But then Keith came.

Shiro isn't the abuser. _Keith_ is.

I know, I know. "Wwwwooooowww Kitty, really????"  
Yes really. Here's why:

Now Lance was in love with Shiro wholeheartedly and didn't have any desire to chase after anyone else. Then Keith comes along. {Remember to keep in mind Lance's character explanation from before.}  
Keith swoops in and prods at him like he's some kind of strange animal. Lance tells him to shut the fuck up and stay away from him. Simple. There was no hesitation in his words. But then Keith repeats the same words and phrases over and over and _over_ to him:

"Shiro is using you."  
"You're a toy."  
"That's not love."  
"He doesn't love you."  
"You don't love him."  
"Shiro is using you."  
"Shiro is a rapist."  
"Shiro is using you."  
"Shiro is a pedophile."  
"He's using you."

Now that you've got a better grasp on Lance as a person, think about this. He is naïve, and he knows this to some extent, so hearing someone tell him that Shiro is not in love with him and is just using him starts to claw at Lance's mind. It would've been just a little bump if Keith was the only one doing this.

But he wasn't.

Hunk did too.

Hunk consistently repeated Keith's manipulative phrases, putting extreme emphasis on the fact that Shiro and Lance are wrong and abusing his position as Lance's best friend.

That's what made Lance snap and start believing it. So he experimented with Keith. Within their little love affair, Keith showed him even _more_ kindness and softness than Shiro did. When Lance finally chose him and they left Voltron, Keith's true character came to be quite apparent.

Now now now. Let's chill out for a second. Don't get me wrong: Keith isn't a bad person and neither is Hunk. They weren't aware of what they were doing to Lance's mentality. But they did it anyway, which makes their _actions and treatment of Lance_ bad.

But they still abused him, whether they knew it or not. The happy ending is when Keith told Lance to go. So when Lance was standing in the airport and Keith gave him a choice, he chose the person he actually loved. Shiro. Did Keith expect him to go? Well that's up for debate. I'm not gonna explain absolutely everything, it's up to you to decipher and interpret into your own personal values and views.   
  


"Alsoooo, why did Hunk do it? What benefit did he get from making a stand against Shiro?"

That's...a bit messy and will become a little clearer in upcoming chapters. You will interpret it as you see fit, but ultimately it was for one sole reason.  
  
  


Like this story was set up from the very beginning, it's complicated. I'll always answer questions if I can, but you gotta read it like a high school English teacher on ten 5-Hour energys. Otherwise you'll be very confused and very angry with the characters for the wrong reasons.   
  


That is all I got for now. Leave your thoughts in the comments and let me know if something isn't clicking for you. 

Kitty out.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_WARNING: PICTURES BELOW ARE GRAPHIC AND BLOODY._ **   
  
  
  



	63. Light and Shadow

Hunk looked down at his phone then back up at the door. This was the place. He cleared his right hand and propped up his suitcase so he could knock on the dark wood. Inside was quiet. No shuffling. No footsteps. He looked back down at his phone and checked the address again.

 

"Cinnamon?"

 

Hunk turned to see Anger drifting up to him with his hands stuffed in his black leather jacket. Dark circles created halos of tiredness on his worn face. Leftover cigarette smoke lingered in the air as the evening light casted shadows on his dull hair. His boots scraped the ground as he stopped about five feet away.

 

Hunk gave him a gentle, pitied smile and turned his body to face him as Anger eyed his suitcase. "My name is Hunk."

 

Anger's eyes immediately shot up to meet Hunk's. The hint of a smile on his face was nonexistent. After a moment of silence, his lips finally parted. "Keith." He gave a hesitant nod. "My name is Keith."

 

Hunk's lips curved up in a gentle smirk as he nodded in response. "If you'd like, I'd love to stay with you for at least a little while."

 

Keith glanced down at his suitcase once more then back up at his eyes. With a quick deep breath, he let go of holding back the smile in his eyes. His cheeks brightened up and the worn hills and valley upon his skin healed just a little bit. Just enough for Hunk to notice. Keith removed his hands from his leather jacket and pulled out his jingling keys, finding the correct one and unlocking the door. When he motioned for Hunk to enter before him, Keith picked up his suitcase and welcomed him into the warm cottage.

 

 

 

 

Sorry it's so short! I've actually been thinking about what story I will do once this one ends. (Which is probably soon. I know, cri cri.) So I've included one idea that I think I've connected to. Here's what the first scene would be. (Tip: think of it more like a movie rather than a book as you're reading.) I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think and if you'd like me to explain the storyline.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lance forced himself out of bed and took in a large breath of the dense air in the house. He sighed and wiped sweat off the back of his neck as he left Keith behind and walked out to the kitchen.

 

He picked up the large jug of water beside the counter and carefully poured some into a coffee cup. Relief and energy filled his body as he took a big gulp of it. Once he finished it off, he picked up the towel beside the long-dried out sink and wiped down the rim of the mug where his lips had touched. He then set the cup upside down on a rack above a small bucket on the counter to collect the excess water droplets. Now finished with his morning ration, he retrieved a smaller pink cup with worn princess stickers on it, filling it up a centimeter from the top. Sweat beads continued to roll down the sides of his face as he fought the nausea of his body crying out for more. Catching himself on the counter, he used it as a brace and stabilized his heavy feet. Even the air felt thick and suffocating.

 

When he had shaken away the dizziness in his brain, he picked up the pink cup with both shaky hands and headed down the hall toward the plain white door. He gently knocked on it to check if Maria was up before opening it. Not hearing anything, he turned the knob and stepped in. The sun hadn't risen yet, only leaving a faint glow—just enough to maneuver through the house. Lance sent the cup down on the end table beside his daughter's bed and sat down to gradually wake her.

 

"Maria~?" Lance placed his hand on her tiny shoulder and shook it gently. Her curly brown hair had fallen out of the bun they put it up in the night prior, but her body didn't feel too warm. Lance wiped his forehead in his bare arm and shook her again. "Maria, it's time to get up~"

 

Still, Lance received no response. He chuckled a little and reached up to correct her hair; but caught himself when his hand accidentally brushed her ice-cold cheek. His heart immediately stopped.

 

"Maria?" He shook her again, a little tougher this time. His voice increased in volume and desperation. "Maria? Come on sweetie, time to wake up."

 

Nothing. The realization hit Lance like a ton of bricks falling onto his withering heart. "Maria?!" He jumped up and pushed her body to lay on her back and leaned down to listen for breathing. He let out a terrified groan when he couldn't feel anything and placed his fingers on her neck to check for a pulse. All he could do was pray to god that she was still okay. But she wasn't. "Maria?" Lance lowered his voice once more into a pitiful whine as he leaned down and stroked the unruly strands of hair from her eyes. When there was still no movement, Lance's muscles slowly lost their strength and fell to his sides as he dropped to his knees.

 

There was no life in her tiny, five year old body. When Lance pieced it all together, he screamed. His parental instinct to hold her kicked in as he picked up her limp body and let its weight lean on his chest. "No!" Tears fell from his eyes and crashed to the floor. "Maria! Maria!" He rocked back and forth in a heartbroken daze. "Not my baby!"

 

"Lance?!" Keith sprinted into the doorway and met the sight of his screaming boyfriend holding his child.

 

Lance cried harder and held Maria's body tighter as he stared up at Keith with pleading eyes and wet cheeks. His mouth wouldn't let him speak, so he just shook his head. It was enough to clarify the tragedy that had occurred.

 

 

 

Let me know if you guys like this little teaser and would like to see it as a new story!


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